THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


ANNALS    OF   THE    POOR 


«  THE    dairyman's    DAUGHTER  ;"     "  THE   YOUNG 
COTTAGER  ;"    THE    NEGRO    SERVANT,"    ETC. 


BY  LEGH  RICHMOND,  A.M. 


A    NEW    EDITION,    ENLARGED,    WITH    AN    INTRODUCTORY 
SKETCH    OF    THE    AUTHOR, 

BY  JOHN  AYRE,  A.M. 

DOMESTIC    CHAPLAIN  TO   THE    EARL   OF    RODEN. 


"  Thou,  O  God,  hast  prepared  of  thy  goodness  for  the  Poor." 

P#a/m  Ixviii.,  10. 


NEW    YORK: 

ROBERT    CARTER    &    BROTHERS 

No.    285    BROADWAY. 

1850. 


u^ 


CONTENTS 


Page. 

Introduction 7 

The  Dairyman's  Daughter         ....  19 

The  Negro  Servant        ....  123 

The  Young  Cottager           ....  157 

The  Cottage  Conversation            .        ,  227 

A  Visit  to  the  Infirmary   .                *  233 


.'v?cii)21) 


WILLIAM  WILBERFORCE,  ESQ. 

THIS  LITTLE  WORK 

DESIGNED  TO  BEAR  A  TESTIMONY,  DRAWN  FROM  REAL 
FACTS  AND  OCCURRENCES, 

TO  THE 

INFINITE  VALUE  OF  CHRISTIAN  TRUTH, 

When  received  in  the  Heart  and  exemplified  in  the  Conduct, 
IS  DEDICATED, 

A.S  A  TOKEN  OF  GRATEFUL  AND  AFFECTIONATE  REGARD,  \VHI4« 

THK  AUTHOR  ENTERTAINS  TOWARDS  A  CHARACTER 

SO  LONG  AND  JUSTLY  APPROVED, 

AS 

THE  FAITHFUL  MONITOR  OF  THE  RICH,  THE  TRIET> 

FRIEND    OF    THE   POOR,    THE   UNWEARIED 

SUPPORTER  OF  RELIGION,  AND  THE 

ACKNOWLEDGED  BENEFACTOR 

OF  MANKIND. 


JjCt  not  Ambition  raock  their  useful  toll. 
Their  homely  joys,  and  destiny  obsc  ore : 

Nor  Grandeur  hear,  with  a  disdainful  smile, 
The  short  but  simple  annals  of  the  poor. 
Grat 


INTRODUCTION. 


It  has  been  thought  that  an  enlarged  edition  of  the 
"Annals  of  the  Poor"  might  not  be  unacceptable  to 
the  public,  and  that  a  brief  sketch  of  the  Author's  life 
might  with  advantage  be  appended.  It  has  fallen  to  my 
lot  to  superintend  such  a  publication. 

The  "  Dairyman's  Daughter"  is  enlarged  with  a  num- 
ber of  letters,  &.C.,  written  by  herself  to  her  relatives. 
The  originals  of  these  have  been  preserved  in  the  Author's 
possession.  There  are  also  added  two  letters  addressed 
to  her  by  the  Author.  I  have  judged  it  expedient  rot  to 
interrupt  the  course  of  the  narrative,  and  have  therefore 
thrown  together  the  additional  matter  in  the  form  of  an 
appendix. 

The  '*  Young  Cottager"  and  the  "  Negro  Servant"  are 
reprinted,  without  alteration,  from  the  last  edition. 

Two  little  pieces  from  Mr.  Richmond's  pen,  inserted  in 
the  first  volume  of  the  Christian  Guardian,  now  for  the 
first  time  accompany  his  larger  tracts.  They  are  entitled 
"The  Cottage  Conversation,"  and  "AV:sit  to  the  In- 
firmary." 


8  INTRODUCTION. 

I  have  a  melancholy  satisfaction  in  s-ketching  the  life  of 
my  lamented  father-in-law,  and  I  willingly  embrace  the 
opportunity  of  aflfectiouately  paying  a  public  tribute  to  the 
memory  of  one  so  valued  and  beloved.  I  purposely  refrain 
from  intruding  into  the  province  of  the  biographer.  My 
aim  is  only  to  catch  two  or  three  more  prominent  features 
of  his  character,  introducing  just  so  much  of  narration  as 
may  serve  to  render  my  observations  intelligible. 

Legh  Richmond  was  born  at  Liverpool,  Jan.  29,  1772. 
He  was  the  eldest  child  of  Dr.  Henry  Richmond,  the  de- 
scendant of  an  ancient  and  honorable  family.  A  remark- 
able casualty  befell  him  in  his  childhood,  from  the  effects  of 
which  he  never  recovered.  At  a  very  early  age,  in  leaping 
from  a  wall,  he  contracted  an  injury  in  his  left  leg,  which 
issued  in  incurable  lameness.  It  is  somewhat  singular  that 
an  accident  nearly  similar  occurred  to  a  younger  brother,  and 
also  to  his  second  son.  Each  of  them,  in  infancy,  fell  from 
an  open  window.  The  former  was  killed,  and  the  latter 
was  ever  after  afflicted  in  the  same  limb  with  the  same 
kind  of  lameness  as  his  father. 

After  a  private  preparatory  education,  Legh  Richmond 
was  admitted  a  member  of  Trinity  College,  Cambridge. 
While  an  under-graduate,  he  pursued  his  studies  with  a 
talent  and  a  zeal  which  gave  fair  promise  that  the  highest 
honors  of  his  year  were  not  beyond  his  reach.  These 
hopes  were  however  blighted  by  a  severe  illness,  which 
was  partly  owing  to  his  anxious  and  unremitted  applica- 
tion. Precluded,  by  this  cause,  from  engaging  in  the 
honorable  contention  of  the  senate-house,  he  received  what 
is  academically  termed  an  sBgrotat  degree  :  commencing 
B.  A.  in  1794  :  and  with  some  intermissions  he  resided  in 
the  university  three  years  longer. 


INTRODUCTION.  9 

We  are  now  to  view  Mr.  Richmond  in  a  totally  different 
character.  In  the  summer  of  1797,  he  became,  within  the 
space  of  a  very  weeks,  (to  borrow  his  own  words,)  "  aca- 
demically a  master  of  arts,  domestically  a  husband,  pa- 
rochially a  deacon."  He  had  been  originally  destined  to 
the  law  ;  but  having  imbibed  a  distaste  for  that  profession, 
his  attention  was  subsequently  directed  to  the  church,  and 
he  was  now  admitted  to  the  sacred  office.  Brading,  a 
secluded  village  in  the  Isle  of  Wight,  was  the  scene  of 
his  earliest  pastoral  labors.  He  was  ordained  to  the  curacy 
of  this  place  and  the  little  adjoining  village  of  Yaverland : 
and  in  Yaverland  church  he  delivered  his  first  sermon. 

These  scenes  will  long  be  dear  to  Christian  remembrance. 
Lovely  in  themselves,  and  consecrated  by  the  pen  of  Legh 
Richmond,  they  will  be  viewed  with  no  ordinary  feelings  : 
and  he  who  disdains  not  the  "  simple  annals  of  the  poor," 
while  he  treads  the  sod  which  covers  "little  Jane,"  or 
visits  the  lowly  cottage  of  the  "  Dairyman,"  will  not  fail 
to  glorify  God  for  those  who  here  have  slept  in  Jesus,  and 
"though  dead,  yet  speak." 

At  the  time  of  his  ordination,  Mr.  Richmond  saw  little 
of  the  magnitude  of  that  work  in  which  he  was  engaging. 
As  yet,  he  was  himself  but  little  acquainted  with  the 
things  of  God,  and  was  therefore  little  qualified  to  become 
the  spiritual  instructor  o£_others.  His  habits  of  life  were 
decorous  and  exemplary,  his  pulpit  compositions  interest- 
ing and  moral,  but  as  yet  he  was  little  imbued  with  the 
spirit  of  vital  godliness.  This  man,  however,  (may  it  not 
be  said?)  was  "a  chosen  vessel  to  the  Lord."  Ere  many 
months  elapsed,  a  complete  revolution  was  effected  in  his 
religious  sentiments.  This  is,  under  God,  mainly  to  be 
ascribed  to  the  perusal  of  Mr.  Wilberforce's  "Practical 


10  INTRODrCTION. 

7iew  of  Christianity."  He  now,  with  enlightened  under- 
standing and  decisive  zeal,  set  himself  to  "  do  the  wort 
of  an  evangelist."  Not  only  was  he  in  the  pulpit,  instant 
in  "preaching  the  word,"  but  he  was  also  to  be  found  with 
his  pastoral  admonitions  in  the  dwellings  of  his  flock,  and 
could  descend,  with  sweet  and  winning  gentleness,  to 
"  feed  his  lambs."  The  fruit  of  his  labors  was  speedily 
apparent.  "  Little  Jane"  was  the  first  flower  which  bloom- 
ed from  the  good  seed  he  was  sowing. 

The  circumstances  attendant  upon  his  intercourse  with 
the  subjects  of  the  Annals  will  be  found  narrated  in  the 
several  tracts.  I  only  observe  in  this  place,  that  "  little 
Jane"  died  January  30,  1799,  in  her  fifteenth  year  ;  that 
the  conversations  with  the  "  Negro  Servant"  were  held 
during  the  summer  of  1S03,  and  that  the  death  of  the 
"  Dairyman's  Daughter"  took  place  May  30,  1801  :  her 
age  was  thirty-one. 

After  a  residence  of  about  seven  years  in  the  Isle  of 
Wight,  where  hie  labors  had  been  evidently  and  largely 
blessed,  Mr.  Richmond  removed  to  London.  He  was  here 
to  take  a  share  in  the  duties  of  the  Lock  chapel.  The 
very  first  sermon  he  delivered  from  the  pulpit  of  this  place 
was,  there  is  every  reason  to  believe,  under  God's  bless- 
ing, the  instrumental  means  *of  effecting  a  saving  change 
in  the  heart  of,  at  least,  one  indijjidual. 

Scarcely,  however,  was  he  well  settled  in  this  new 
scene,  when  the  good  providence  of  God  removed  him  to 
the  rectory  of  Turvey,  Bedfordshire.  He  was  presented 
to  this  living  by  Miss  Fuller,  in  1805. 

Long  will  the  n-ame  of  Richmond  be  venerated  at  Tur- 
vey ;  long  will  the  savor  of  his  affectionate  ministrations 
abide  in  the  hearts  of  his  mourning  flock.     A  singular 


INTRODUCTION. 


11 


blessing  still  attended  him.  From  the  earliest  to  literally 
the  latest,  his  preaching  was  visibly  "  in  demonstration  of 
the  Spirit  and  of  power." 

It  was  during  his  residence  at  Turvey,  that  most  of  Mr. 
Richmond's  publications  were  undertaken.  He  had  pre- 
viously printed  two  or  three  single  sermons  ;*  but  it  was 
at  Turvey  that  his  great  work,  "  The  Fathers  of  the  Eng- 
lish Church,"  was  carried  on.  For  the  superintendence 
of  this  important  undertaking  he  was  eminently  qualified. 
Accident,  or  I  would  rather  say,  a  remarkable  providence, 
had,  in  the  first  instance,  introduced  him,  while  in  the  Isle 
of  Wight,  to  the  writings  of  our  earlier  and  greatest  theo- 
logians ;  and  the  study  of  them  he  had  ever  since  zeal- 
ously prosecuted.  To  a  familiar  acquaintance  with  the 
works  of  these  divines,  Mr.  Richmond  united  the  greatest 
impartiality  and  judgment  in  forming  his  selections.  His 
work  therefore  presents,  in  a  comparatively  small  com- 
pass, a  large  proportion  of  the  most  valuable  of  the  re- 
mains of  our  martyrs  and  confessors.  It  is  not  perhaps 
too  much  to  say,  that  it  has  been  mainly  instrumental  in 
awakening  to  the  reformers  that  attention  and  interest 
with  which  they  are  now  increasingly  regarded. 

It  was  during  his  residence  at  Turvey  also  that  Mr. 
Richmond  drew  up  the  narratives  which  are  contained  in 
the  present  volume.  They  were  originally  (in  substance) 
inserted  in  the  earlier  numbers  of  the  Christian  Guardian. 
Having  here  attracted  considerable  attention,  they  were 
then  published  in  the  form  of  separate  tracts,  and  after- 


*  These  were,  a  Fast-day  Sermon,  and  one  On  the  Close  of  the  Year, 
preached  at  Brading ;  and  a  Sermon  on  Cruelty  to  the  Brute  Creation,  deliv^ 
ered  at  Bath. 


12  INTRODUCTIOX. 

ward,  with  considerable  augmentations,  in  the  first  edition 
of  this  volume. 

It  may  appear  perhaps  unnecessary  to  pronounce  an 
opinion  on  productions  which  have  been  circulated  by 
millions,  and  translated  into  twenty  languages  ;  and  which, 
in  a  multitude  of  well-authenticated  instances,  have  been, 
by  the  blessing  of  God,  signally  effective  of  good.  I  can- 
not, however,  forbear  to  say,  that  in  Legh  Richmond's 
writings,  more  than  in  those  of  perhaps  any  other  author, 
you  behold  the  character  of  the  man.  His  beautiful  sim- 
plicity, his  lively  imagination,  his  tenderness  of  feeling, 
his  devoted  piety,  were  the  characteristics  of  the  man 
which  enshrined  him  in  the  affections  of  all  who  knew 
him.  And  who  can  read  a  page  of  his  Annals,  and  not  re- 
cognise in  those  interesting  narratives,  the  same  simple 
plainness,  the  same  glowing  fancy,  the  same  touching  pa- 
thos, the  same  ardent  piety  1  In  sketching  his  villagers, 
he  has  unconsciously  delineated  himself.  He  admits  us  to 
his  retirement  and  meditations,  shows  us  his  hopes  and 
fears,  and  presents  us  with  all  the  secret  workings  of  his 
Boul.  We  admire  the  gifted  minister  of  God,  who,  in 
the  deep  humility  of  his  spirit,  disdained  not  to  listen  to 
the  voice  of  admonition,  though  it  reached  him  from  the 
lowly  cottage  ;  we  cannot  withhold  our  affection  from 
the  man. 

If  I  were  called  on  to  say  which  of  the  narratives  I  pre- 
fer, I  should,  most  probably,  be  inclined  to  fix  on  that  of 
the  "  Young  Cottager."  There  is  something,  in  my  judg- 
ment, irresistibly  engaging  in  the  character  and  history  of 
that  simple  girl.  I  can  venerate  the  high  and  exalted  piety 
of  the  "Dairyman's  Daughter,"  who,  with  a  masculine 
strength  of  understanding,  had  ever  her  word  of  counsel 


INTRODUCTION.  13 

even  for  the  minister:  but  I  love  the  little,  backward, 
neglected,  retiring  child,  who  starts  forth  at  once  in  all  the 
moral  beauty  of  Christian  attainment.  There  is  something 
too  in  the  condition  of  Jane,  which  seems  especially  to  call 
for  our  sympathy.  The  Dairyman's  Daughter  was  con- 
stantly surrounned  by  a  circle  of  affectionate  relatives, 
who  regarded  her  with  reverence  and  love ;  while  Jane's 
religion  was,  at  best,  little  appreciated,  often  despised  and 
ridiculed  by  her  family,  and  her  last  hours  were  disturbed 
by  sounds  of  blasphemy,  proceeding  from  a  parent.  Many 
of  the  incidents  also  of  this  tale  might  be  appealed  to  as 
conferring  upon  it  a  peculiar  interest.  The  scene,  for  ex- 
ample, where  Mr.  Richmond,  on  his  first  visit  to  her,  while 
speaking  of  the  good  news  of  the  Gospel,  inquires,  "  Who 
brings  this  good  news]"  and  is  answered,  "  Sir,  you  brought 
it  to  me ;"  I  know  not  who  can  read  unmoved.  Her  part- 
ing benediction  too — "  God  bless  and  reward  you  !" — when 
with  an  unexpected  exertion  she  threw  her  arms  around 
him  and  expired — is  iaexpressibly  affecting. 

I  close  what  I  have  to  say  on  the  subject  of  these  tracts, 
by  adding,  that  a  few  years  ago,  two  grave-stones  were 
erected  in  the  churchyards  of  Arreton  and  Brading  respec- 
tively, to  the  memory  of  the  "  Dairyman's  Daughter,"  and 
the  "  Young  Cottager." 

On  the  former  are  inscribed  the  following  lines,  the 
composition  of  a  lady. 


•'  Stranger !  if  e'er  by  chance  or  feeling  led, 
Upon  this  hallowed  turf  thy  footsteps  tread, 
Turn  from  the  contemplation  of  the  sod, 
And  thmk  on  her  whose  spirit  rests  with  God 
Lowly  her  lot  on  earth,— but  He  who  bore 
•ndinga  of  grace  and  blessings  to  the  poor, 

2 


14  INTRODUCTION. 

Gave  her,  his  truth  and  faithfulness  to  prove, 
The  choicest  treasures  of  his  boundless  love : 
Faith,  tliat  dispell'd  affliction's  darkest  gloom; 
Hope,  that  could  cheer  the  passage  to  the  tomb; 
Peace,  that  not  Hell's  dark  legion  could  destroy ; 
And  love,  that  fill'd  the  soul  with  heavenly  joy. 
Death  of  its  sting  disarm'd,  she  knew  no  fear, 
But  tasted  heaven,  e'en  while  she  linger'd  here. 
Oh !  happy  saint  I — may  we  like  thee  be  blest ; 
In  life  be  faithful,  and  in  death  find  rest !" 

The  following  epitaph  is  from  Mr.  Richmond's  pen. 

"  Ye  who  delight  the  power  of  God  to  trace, 
And  mark  with  joy  each  monument  of  grace, 
Tread  lightly  o'er  this  grave,  as  you  explore 
'  The  short  and  simple  annals  of  the  poor.' 

<  A  child  reposes  underneath  this  sod, 
A  child  to  memory  dear,  and  dear  to  God: 
Rejoice,  yet  shed  the  sympathetic  tear, 
Jane,  '  the  Young  Cottager,'  lies  buried  here." 

During  his  residence  at  Turvey,  Mr.  Richmond  became 
extendedly  known  to  the  public  as  the  cordial  friend,  and 
real  advocate  of  the  different  religious  societies,  which 
have  within  the  last  thirty  years  grown  up  among  us.  His 
persuasive  and  pathetic  eloquence  in  the  pulpit  or  on  the 
platform,  when  awaking  Christian  sympathy  in  behalf  of 
the  idolatrous  Gentile,  or  the  unbelieving  Jew,  will  not  be 
readily  forgotten  by  the  multitudes  who  have,  so  often, 
delighted  and  instructed,  hung  upon  his  lips.  I  believe 
his  earliest  appearance  in  this  character,  was  on  the  ninth 
anniversary  of  the  Church  Missionary  Society,  before 
whom  he  was  appointed,  in  1809,  to  preach  their  annual 
sermon.  This  sermon  may  be  appealed  to  as  a  fair  and 
characteristic  specimen  of  his  powers  in  the  pulpit ;  though 


INTRODtJCTION.  15 

I  must  be  allowed  tO  say,  that  his  flowing  and  harmo- 
nious language,  his  graceful  delivery,  and  sweet  expres- 
sion of  features,  beaming  with  love  to  God  and  good-will 
to  men,  imparted  a  charm  which  the  mere  reader  of  a 
printed  sermon  can  by  no  means  duly  appreciate. 

His  preaching,  for  a  long  series  of  years,  was  altogether 
extemporaneous.  His  ready  utterance,  his  exuberant 
fancy,  his  aptness  of  illustration,  his  deep  knowledge  of 
divine  things,  rendered  his  sermons  always  interesting  and 
useful.  Perhaps  he  did  not,  upon  common  occasions, 
allow  himself  sufficient  previous  study ;  but  if  this  loere 
his  fault,  he  acted  upon  principle.  "Why,"  he  would 
often  say,  "why  need  I  labor,  when  our  simple  villagers 
are  far  more  usefully  instructed  in  my  plain,  easy,  familiar 
manner  ]  The  only  result  would  be,  that  I  should  ad- 
dress them  in  a  style  beyond  their  comprehension." 

His  appearance  on  the  platform  of  a  public  meeting  was 
universally  hailed  with  pleasure.  His  ready  adaptation  of 
passing  incidents,  the  suavity  of  his  addresses,  sometimes 
solemn,  sometimes  even  jocose,  interspersed  with  interest- 
ing narratives,  which  he  could  so  well  relate,  deservedly 
placed  him  high  in  public  esteem. 

I  ought,  perhaps,  to  state,  that  in  1814,  Mr.  Richmond 
was  appointed  chaplain  to  the  late  Duke  of  Kent,  by  whom 
he  was  honored  with  a  share  of  his  Royal  Highncss's 
friendship.  In  1817,  Mr.  R.  was  presented  by  the  late 
Emperor  Alexander  of  Russia,  with  a  splendid  ring,  as  a 
testimony  of  the  approbation  with  which  his  Imperial  Ma- 
jesty viewed  the  narratives  in  this  volume. 

Many  peaceful  years  were  passed  at  Turvey.  Happy 
in  the  bosom  of  his  family,  no  man  more  excelled  as  a  pat- 
tern of  domestic  virtues,  than  Legh  Richmond. 


16  INTRODUCTION. 

At  length,  in  1825,  Mr.  R.'s  domestic  happiness  sus- 
tained a  severe  blow  by  the  death  of  his  second  son,  a 
youth  in  his  nineteenth  year.  For  this  beloved  child,  he 
had  fostered  many  a  fond  hope  and  anxious  expectation, 
and  beheld  with  all  a  father's  joy,  "  non  flosculos — sed 
jam  certos  atque  deformatos  fructus."  This  fair  flower 
was  withered  by  consumption,  and  the  bereaved  parent, 
though  he  submitted  as  a  Christian,  yet  sorrowed  as  a 
man.  In  a  few  short  months  the  stroke  was  repeated. 
Intelligence  arrived  that  his  eldest  son,  who  had  been  ab- 
sent many  years,  had  died  on  his  voyage  from  India  to 
England. 

These  afflictive  dispensations  had  a  marked  and  peculiar 
effect  upon  Legh  Richmond.  He  who  used  to  ^e  the  life 
of  the  domestic  and  social  circle,  would  now  be  silent  and 
abstracted  :  yet  it  was  not  the  morbid  gloom  of  a  repining 
heart,  it  was  rather  the  solemnity  of  conviction  that  he 
should  ere  long  rejoin  his  lamented  children.  His  bodily 
health,  too,  seemed  in  some  measure  decaying.  His  mul- 
titude of  pastoral  duties  were  too  heavy  for  his  strength. 
For  the  last  twelve  months  of  his  life  he  was  troubled  with 
an  irritating  cough,  which  seemed  to  indicate  an  affection 
of  the  lungs.  At  length,  (March,  1827,)  he  contracted  a 
violent  cold,  which  issued  in  pleurisy;  from  which,  how- 
ever, he  shortly  appeared  to  be  recovering.  During  all 
this  time,  when  certainly  no  immediate  danger  uas  ap- 
prehended, he  was  peacefully  and  quietly  setting  his  house 
in  order.  To  his  family  he  knew  the  idea  of  separation 
would  be  agony:  he  therefore  scarcely  hinted  to  iJiem 
what  he  felt  was  nigh  at  hand :  but  to  a  clerical  friend, 
he,  in  striking  words,  professed  that  simple  reliance  on 
the  atonement  of  Christ,  which  alone  can  cheer  and  sup- 


INTRODUCTION.  17 

port  the  soul  in  the  hour  of  dissolution.  It  soon  became 
evident  to  those  around  him,  that  the  flood  of  life  was 
ebbing  calmly,  yet  fast :  and  at  last,  (May  8,)  without 
pain  or  struggle,  the  ready  spirit  sweetly  and  softly  pass- 
ed from  her  tenement — and  Legh  Richmond  slept  in 
Jesus. 

Farewell,  dear  friend  and  father  !  Very  pleasant  were 
the  hours  and  years  of  our  communion :  but  they  are 
passed  away,  and  the  savor  only,  sad  yet  sweet,  remains. 
"Farewell,  dear  friend,  till  the  morning  of  an  eternal  day 
renew  our  personal  intercourse  !"  May  I  meet  thee  in  a 
better  world. 

I  cannot  but  connect  the  closing  hours  of  my  beloved 
friend,  with  that  affecting  prayer  which  he  has  breathed 
in  the  Young  Cottager,  (Part  IV.)  He  had  been  describ- 
ing the  useful  course  and  peaceful  termination  of  a  little 
rivulet,  which  glides  through  a  very  lovely  glen,  by  which 
he  was  meditating.  "  May  my  course  be  like  unto  thine, 
thou  little  rivulet !  Though  short  be  my  span  of  life,  yet 
may  I  be  useful  to  my  fellow-sinners  as  I  travel  onward ! 
Let  me  be  a  dispenser  of  spiritual  support  and  health  to 
many !  Like  this  stream,  may  I  prove  the  poor  man's 
friend  by  the  way,  and  water  the  souls  that  thirst  for  the 
river  of  life,  wherever  I  meet  them  !  And  if  it  pleases 
thee,  O  my  God,  let  me  in  my  latter  end  be  like  this 
brook  !  It  calmly,  though  not  quite  silently,  flows  through 
this  scene  of  peace  and  loveliness,  just  before  it  enters 
the  sea.  Let  me  thus  gently  close  my  days  likewise ; 
and  may  I  not  unusefully  tell  to  others  of  the  goodness 
and  mercy  of  my  Saviour,  till  J  arrive  at  the  vast  ocean  of 
eternity." 

That  prayer  was  surely  answered.     He  did  tell  to  men, 

a* 


18  INTRODUCTION. 

with  abundant  blessing,  of  the  goodness  and  mercy  of  his 
Saviour  :  he  did  thus  gently  close  his  days. 

Soldier  of  Christ,  well  done  I 

Praise  be  thy  new  employ  ; 
And  while  eternal  ages  run, 

Rest  in  thy  Saviour's  joy. 

J   A, 

Islington. 
Feb.  21st,  182a 


THE 

DAIRYMAN'S  DAUGHTER. 


PART  I. 

It  is  a  delightful  employment  to  discover  and  trace  the 
operations  of  divine  grace,  as  they  are  manifested  in  the 
dispositions  and  lives  of  God's  real  children.  It  is  pecu- 
liarly gratifying  to  observe  how  frequently,  among  the 
poorer  classes  of  mankind,  the  sunshine  of  mercy  beams 
upon  the  heart,  and  bears  witness  to  the  image  of  Christ 
which  the  Spirit  of  God  has  impressed  thereupon.  Among 
such,  the  sincerity  and  simplicity  of  the  Christian  charac- 
ter appear  unencumbered  by  those  obstacles  to  spirituality 
of  mind  and  conversation,  which  too  often  prove  a  great 
hindrance  to  those  who  live  in  the  higher  ranks.  Many 
are  the  difficulties  which  riches,  worldly  consequence,  high 
connections,  and  the  luxuriant  refinements  of  polished  so- 
ciety, throw  in  the  way  of  religious  profession.  Happy 
indeed  it  is  (and  some  such  happy  instances  I  know)  where 
grace  has  so  strikingly  supported  its  conflict  with  natural 
pride,  self-importance,  the  allurements  of  luxury,  ease, 
and  worldly  opinion,  that  the  noble  and  mighty  appear 


20  THE    dairyman's   DAUGHTER. 

adorned  with  genuine  poverty  of  spirit,  self-denial,  humble 
mindedness,  and  deep  spirituality  of  heart. 

But,  in  general,  if  we  want  to  see  religion  in  its  most 
simple  and  pure  character,  we  must  look  for  it  among  the 
poor  of  this  world,  who  are  rich  in  faith.  How  often  is 
the  poor  man's  cottage  the  palace  of  God !  Many  can 
truly  declare,  that  they  have  there  learned  the  most  valu- 
able lessons  of  faith  and  hope,  and  there  witnessed  the 
most  striking  demonstrations  of  the  wisdom,  pov;er,  and 
goodness  of  God. 

The  character  which  the  present  narrative  is  designed 
to  introduce  to  the  notice  of  my  readers,  is  given /row  real 
life  and  circumstance.  I  first  became  acquainted  with  her 
by  receiving  the  following  letter,  which  I  transcribe  from 
the  original  now  before  me. 

'•  Rev.  Sir, 

"  I  take  the  liberty  to  write    to   you.      Pray  ex- 
cuse me,  for  I  have  never  spoken  to  you.     But  I  once 

heard  you  when  you  preached  at church.     I  believe 

you  are  a  faithful  preacher  to  warn  sinners  to  flee  from 
the  wrath  that  will  be  revealed  against  all  those  tliat  live 
in  sin,  and  die  impenitent.  Pray  go  on  in  the  strength  of 
the  Lord.  And  may  he  bless  you,  and  crown  your  labor 
of  love  with  success,  and  give  you  souls  for  your  hire  ! 

"  The  Lord  has  promised  tc  be  with  those  whom  he  calls 
and  sends  forth  to  preach  his  word  to  the  end  of  time  ;  for 
without  him  we  can  do  nothing.  I  was  much  rejoiced  to 
hear  of  those  marks  of  love  and  affection  to  that  poor  sol- 
dier of  the  S.  D.  militia.  Surely  the  love  of  Christ  sent 
you  to  that  poor  man  :  may  that  love  ever  dwell  richly  in 
you  by  faith !  may  it  constrain  you  to  seek  the  wandering 


THE   dairyman's   DAUGHTER.  21 

souls  of  men  with  the  fervent  desire  to  spend  and  be  spent 
for  his  glory  !  May  the  unction  of  the  Holy  Spirit  attend 
the  word  spoken  by  you  with  power,  and  convey  deep  con- 
viction to  the  hearts  of  your  hearers  !  May  many  of  them 
experience  the  divine  change  of  being  made  new  creatures 
in  Christ ! 

"  Sir,  be  fervent  in  prayer  with  God  for  the  conversion 
of  sinners.  His  power  is  great,  and  who  can  withstand 
it"?  He  has  promised  to  answer  the  prayer  of  faith,  that 
is  put  up  in  his  Son's  name.  *  Ask  what  ye  will,  it  shall 
be  granted  you.'  How  this  should  strengthen  our  faith 
when  we  are  taught  by  the  word  and  the  Spirit  how  to 
pray !  O  that  sweet  inspiring  hope  ;  how  it  lifts  up  the 
fainting  spirits,  when  we  look  over  the  precious  promises 
of  God  !  What  a  mercy  if  we  know  Christ  and  the  power 
of  his  resurrection  in  our  own  hearts  !  Through  faith  in 
Christ  we  rejoice  in  hope,  and  look  up  in  expectation  of  that 
time  drawing  near,  when  all  shall  know  and  fear  the  Lord, 
and  when  a  nation  shall  be  born  in  a  day. 

"What  a  happy  time,  when  Christ's  kingdom  shall 
come  !  then  shall  '  his  will  be  done  on  earth,  as  it  is  in 
heaven.'  Men  shall  be  daily  fed  with  the  manna  of  his 
love,  and  delight  themselves  in  the  Lord  all  the  day  long. 
Then  what  a  paradise  below  will  they  enjoy !  How  it 
animates  and  enlivens  my  soul  with  vigor  to  pursue  the 
ways  of  God,  that  I  may  even  now  bear  some  humble  part 
in  giving  glory  to  God  and  the  Lamb  ! 

"  Sir,  I  began  to  write  this  on  Sunday,  being  detained 
from  attending  on  public  worship.  My  dear  and  only  sis- 
ter, living  as  a  servant  with  Mrs. ,  was  so  ill,  that  I 

came  here  to  attend  in  her  place  and  on  her.  But  now 
she  is  no  more. 


22  THE  dairyman's  daughter. 

"  I  was  going  to  entreat  you  to  write  to  her  in  answer 
to  this  ;  she  being  convinced  of  the  evil  of  her  past  life, 
and  that  she  had  not  walked  in  the  ways  of  God,  nor 
sought  to  please  him.  But  she  earnestly  desired  to  do  so. 
This  makes  me  have  a  comfortable  h-ope  that  she  is  gone 
to  glory,  and  that  she  is  now  joining  in  sweet  concert  with 
the  angelic  host  in  heaven  to  sing  the  wonders  of  redeem- 
ing love.  1  hope  I  may  now  write,  '  Blessed  are  the  dead 
that  die  in  the  Lord.' 

"  She  expressed  a  desire  to  receive  the  Lord's  Supper, 
and  commemorate  his  precious  death  and  sufferings.  I 
told  her,  as  well  as  I  was  able,  what  it  was  to  receive 
Christ  into  her  heart ;  but  as  her  wea'kness  of  body  in- 
creased, she  did  not  mention  it  again.  She  seemed  quite 
resigned  before  she  died.  I  do  hope  she  is  gone  from  a 
world  of  death  and  sin  to  be  with  God  for  ever. 

"  Sir,  I  hope  you  will  not  be  offended  with  me,  a  poor 
Ignorant  person,  to  take  such  a  liberty  as  to  write  to  you. 
But  I  trust,  as  you  are  called  to  instruct  sinners  in  the 
ways  of  God,  you  will  bear  with  me,  and  be  so  kind  to 
answer  this  ill-wrote  letter,  and  give  me  some  instructions. 
It  is  my  heart's  desire  to  have  the  mind  that  was  in  Christ, 
that  when  I  awake  up  in  his  likeness  then  I  may  be  satisfied. 

"  My  sister  expressed!  a  wish  that  you  might  bury  her. 
The  minister  of  our  parish,  whither  she  will  be  carried,  can- 
not come.     She  will  lie  at .     She  died  on  Tuesday 

morning,  and  will  be  buried  on  Friday  or  Saturday  (which- 
ever  is  most  convenient  to  you)  at  three  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon.     Please  to  send  an  answer  by  the  bearer,  to  let 
me  know  whether  you  can  comply  with  this  request. 
"  From  your  unworthy  servant, 

"Elizabeth  W ." 


THE    dairyman's    DAUGHTER.  23 

I  was  much  struck  with  the  simple  and  earnest  strain 
of  devotion  which  this  letter  breathed.  It  was  but  indif- 
ferently written  and  spell.  But  this  the  rather  tended  to 
endear  the  hitherto  unknown  writer,  as  it  seemed  charac- 
teristic of  the  union  of  humbleness  of  station  with  emi- 
nence of  piety.  I  felt  quite  thankful  that  1  was  favored 
with  a  correspondent  of  this  description  ;  the  more  so,  as 
such  characters  were  at  that  time  very  rare  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. I  have  often  wished  that  epistolary  intercourse 
of  this  kind  was  more  encouraged  and  practised  among 
us.  I  have  the  greatest  reason  to  speak  well  of  its  effects 
both  on  myself  and  others.  Communication  by  letter  as 
well  as  by  conversation  with  the  pious  poor,  has  often  been 
the  instrument  of  animating  and  reviving  my  own  heart 
in  the  midst  of  duty,  and  of  giving  me  the  most  profitable 
information  for  the  general  conduct  of  the  ministerial  office. 

As  soon  as  the  letter  was  read,  I  inquired  who  was  the 
bearer  of  it. 

"  He  is  waiting  at  the  outside  of  the  gate,  sir,"  was 
the  reply. 

I  went  out  to  speak  to  him,  and  saw  a  venerable  old 
man,  whose  long  hoary  hair  and  deeply-wrinkled  counte- 
nance commanded  more  than  common  respect.  He  was 
resting  his  arm  upon  the  gate,  and  tears  were  streaming 
down  his  cheeks.  On  my  approach  he  made  a  low  bow, 
and  said, 

"  Sir,  I  have  brought  you  a  letter  from  my  daughter  ; 
but  I  fear  you  will  think  us  very  bold  in  asking  you  to  take 
so  much  trouble." 

"By  no  means,"  I  replied;  "I  shall  be  truly  glad  to 
oblige  you  and  any  of  your  family  in  this  matter,  pro- 
vided it  be  quite  agreeable  to  the  minister  of  your  parish." 


24  THE  dairyman's  daughter. 

"  Sir,  he  told  me  yesterday,  that  he  should  be  very  glad 
if  I  could  procure  some  gentleman  to  come  and  bury  my 
poor  child  for  him,  as  he  lives  five  miles  off,  and  has  par- 
ticular business  on  that  day  :  so  when  I  told  my  daughter, 
she  asked  me  to  come  to  you,  sir,  and  bring  that  letter, 
which  would  explain  the  matter." 

I  desired  him  to  come  into  the  house,  and  then  said, 

"  What  is  your  occupation  I" 

"  Sir,  I  have  lived  most  of  my  days  in  a  little  cottage 

at ,  six  miles  from  here.     I  have  rented  a  few  acres 

of  ground,  and  kept  some  cows,  which,  in  addition  to  my 
day-labor,  has  been  the  means  of  supporting  and  bringing 
up  my  family." 

"  What  family  have  you  ]" 

"A  wife,  now  getting  very  aged  and  helpless,  two 
sons,  and  one  daughter  ;  for  ray  other  poor  dear  child  is 
just  departed  out  of  this  wicked  world." 

"  I  hope  for  a  better." 

"  I  hope  so  too ;  poor  thing,  she  did  not  use  to  take  to 
such  good  ways  as  her  sister ;  but  I  do  believe  that  her 
sister's  manner  of  talking  with  her  before  she  died  was 
the  means  of  saving  her  soul.  What  a  mercy  it  is  to  have 
such  a  child  as  mine  is  I  I  never  thought  about  my  own 
soul  seriously  till  she,'  poor  girl,  begged  me  to  flee  from 
the  wrath  to  come." 

"  How  old  are  you  1" 

"  Near  seventy,  and  my  wife  is  older  ,  we  are  gettmg 
old  and  almost  past  our  labor,  but  our  daughter  has  left  a 
good  place,  where  she  lived  in  service,  on  purpose  to 
come  home  and  take  care  of  us  and  our  little  dairy.  And 
a  dear,  dutiful,  affectionate  girl  she  is." 

"  Was  she  always  so  3" 


THE   dairyman's   DAUGHTER.  25 

"  No,  sir  ;  when  she  was  very  young,  she  was  all  for- 
the  world,  and  pleasure,  and  dress,  and  company.  Indeed,, 
we  were  all  very  ignorant,  and  thought  if  we  took  care' 
for  this  life,  and  wronged  nobody,  we  should  be  sure  to  go 
to  heaven  at  last.  My  daughters  were  both  wilful,  and, 
like  ourselves,  strangers  to  the  ways  of  God  and  the  word 
of  his  grace.     But  the  eldest  of  them  went  out  to  service, . 

and  some  years  ago,  she  heard  a  sermon  preached  at 

church,  by  a  gentleman  that  was  going  to ,  as  chap- 
lain to  the  colony,  and  from  that  time  she  seemed  quite 
another  creature.  She  began  to  read  the  Bible,  and  be- 
came sober  and  steady.  The  first  time  she  returned  ^ 
home  afterward  to  see  us,  she  brought  us  a  guinea 
which  she  had  saved  from  her  wages,  and  said,  as  we- 
were  getting  old,  she  was  sure  we  should  want  help;, 
adding,  that  she  did  not  wish  to  spend  it  in  fine-  clothes, 
as  she  used  to  do,  only  to  feed  pride  and  vanity.  She- 
said  she  would  rather  show  gratitude  to  her  dear  fa- 
ther and  mother,  because  Christ  had  shown  such  mercy 
to  her. 

"  We  wondered  to  hear  her  talk,  and  took  great  delight^ 
m  her  company;  for  her  temper  and  behavior  were  so- 
humble  and  kind,  she  seemed  so  desirous  to  do  us  good 
both  in  soul  and  body,  and  was  so  different  from  what  we 
had  ever  seen  her  before,  that,,  careless  and  ignorant  as 
we  had  been,  we  began  to  think  there  must  be  something 
real  in  religion,  or  it  never  could  alter  a  person  so  much  in^ 
a  little  time. 

"Her  youngest  sister,  poor  soul!  used  to  laugh  and 
ridicule  her  at  that  time,  and  said  her  head  was  turned 
with  her  new  ways.  'No^  sister,'  she  would  say, '  not  my 
headt  but  I  hope  my  Heart  is  turned  from  the  love  of  sin 


26  THE  dairyman's  daughter. 

to  the  love  of  God.  I  wish  you  may  one  day  see,  as  I  do, 
ithe  danger  and  vanity  of  your  present  condition.' 

-*'  Her  poor  sister  would  reply,  '  I  do  not  want  to  hear 
any  of  your  preaching  ;  I  am  no  worse  than  other  people, 
and  that  is  enough  for  me.' — 'Well,  sister,'  Elizabeth 
would  say^  -*  if  you  will  not  hear  me,  you  cannot  hinder  me 
.from  praying  for  you,  which  I  do  with  all  my  heart.' 

"  And  now,  sir,  I  believe  those  prayers  are  answered. 
.'For  when  her  sister  was  taken  ill,   Elizabeth  went  to 

Mrs. 's  to  wait  in  her  place,  and  take  care  of  her. 

She  said  a  great  deal  to  her  about  her  soul,  and  the  poor 
girl  began  to  be  so  deeply  affected,  and  sensible  of  her 
past  sin,  and  so  thankful  for  her  sister's  kind  behavior, 
that  it  gave  her  great  hopes  indeed  for  her  sake.  When 
my  wife  and  I  went  to  see  her  as  she  lay  sick,  she  told  us 
how  grieved  and  ashanwd  she  was  of  her  past  life;  but 
said,  she  had  a  hope  through  grace  that  her  dear  sister's 
Saviour  would  be  her  Saviour  too ;  for  she  saw  her  own 
sinfulness,  felt  her  own  helplessness,  and  only  wished  to 
cast  herself  upon  Christ  as  her  hope  and  salvation. 

"  And  now,  sir,  she  is  gone,  and  I  hope  and  think  her 
sister's  prayers  for  her  conversion  to  God  have  been 
answered.  The  Lord  grant  the  same  for  her  poor  father 
and  mother's  sake  liket^-ise  !" 

This  conversation  was  a  very  pleasing  commentary 
'Upon  the  letter  which  I  had  received,  and  made  me  anx- 
"ious  both  to  comply  with  the  request,  and  to  become 
acquainted  with  the  writer.  I  promised  the  good  Dairy- 
rman  to  attend  on  the  Friday  at  the  appointed  hour  ;  and 
after  some  more  conversation  respecting  his  own  state  of 
'inind  under  the  present  trial,  he  went  away. 

.He  was  a  reverend  old  man ;   his  furrowed  cheeks. 


I 


i 


THE   dairyman's   DAUGHTER.  27 

white  locks,  weeping  eyes,  bent  shoulders,  and  feeble  gait, 
were  characteristic  of  the  aged  pilgrim.  As  he  slowly  walk- 
ed onward,  supported  by  a  stick,  which  seemed  to  have 
been  the  companion  of  many  a  long  year,  a  train  of  reflec- 
tions occurred,  which  I  retrace  with  pleasure  and  emotion. 

At  the  appointed  hour  I  arrived  at  the  church ;  and 
after  a  little  while,  was  summoned  to  the  churchyard  gate 
to  meet  the  funeral  procession.  The  aged  parents,  the 
elder  brother,  and  the  sister,  with  other  relatives,  formed 
an  affecting  group  !  I  was  struck  with  the  humble,  pious, 
and  pleasing  countenance  of  the  young  woman  from  whom 
I  had  received  the  letter.  It  bore  the  marks  of  great 
seriousness  without  affectation,  and  of  much  serenity 
mingled  with  a  glow  of  devotion. 

A  circumstance  occurred  during  the  reading  of  the 
Burial  Service,  which  I  think  it  right  to  mention,  as  one 
among  many  testimonies  of  the  solemn  and  impressive 
tendency  of  our  truly  evangelical  Liturgy. 

A  man  of  the  village,  who  had  hitherto  been  of  a  very 
careless  and  even  profligate  character,  went  into  the 
church  through  mere  curiosity,  and  with  no  better  purpose 
than  that  of  vacantly  gazing  at  the  ceremony.  He  came 
likewise  to  the  grave,  and  during  the  reading  of  those 
prayers  which  are  appointed  for  that  part  of  the  service, 
his  mind  received  a  deep,  serious  conviction  of  his  sin  and 
spiritual  danger.  It  was  an  impression  that  never  wore 
off,  but  gradually  ripened  into  the  most  satisfactory  evi- 
dence of  an  entire  change,  of  which  I  had  many  and 
long-continued  proofs.  He  always  referred  to  the  Burial 
Service,  and  to  some  particular  sentences  of  it,  as  the 
clearly  ascertained  instrument  of  bringing  him,  through 
grace,  to  the  knowledge  of  the  truth. 


aO  THE    DAIRYMAN  S    DAUGHTER. 

The  day  was  therefore  one  to  be  remembered.  Re- 
membered let  it  be  by  those  who  love  to  hear  "  the  short 
and  simple  annals  of  the  poor." 

Was  there  not  a  manifest  and  happy  connection  between 
the  circumstances  that  providentially  brought  the  serious 
and  the  careless  to  the  same  grave  on  that  day  together  1 
How  much  do  they  lose  who  neglect  to  trace  the  leadings 
of  God  in  providence,  as  links  in  the  chain  of  his  eternal 
purpose  of  redemption  and  grace  ! 

"  While  [nfidels  may  scoff,  let  us  adore !" 

After  the  service  was  concluded,  I  had  a  short  conver- 
sation* with  the  good  old  couple  and  their  daughter.  She 
told  me  that  she  intended  to  remain  a  week  or  two  at  the 
gentleman's  house  where  her  sister  died,  till  another 
servant  should  arrive  and  take  her  sister's  place. 

"  I  shall  be  truly  obliged,"  said  she,  "  by  an  opportunity 
of  conversing  with  you,  either  there  or  at  my  father's, 
when  I  return  home,  which  will  be  in  the  course  of  a 
fortnight  at  the  farthest.  I  shall  be  glad  to  talk  to  you 
about  my  sister,  whom  you  have  just  buried." 

Her  aspect  and  address  were  highly  interesting.  I 
promised  to  see  her  very  soon  ;  and  then  returned  home, 
quietly  reflecting  on  the  circumstances  of  the  funeral  at 
which  I  had  been  engaged.  I  blessed  the  God  of  the 
poor,  and  prcayed  that  the  poor  might  become  rich  in  faith, 
and  the  rich  be  made  poor  in  spirit. 


THE   dairyman's   DAUCxHTER.  39 


PART  II. 

A  SWEET  solemnity  often  possesses  the  mind,  whilst 
retracing  past  intercourse  with  departed  friends.  How 
much  is  this  increased,  when  they  were  such  as  lived  and 
died  in  the  Lord !  The  remembrance  of  former  scenes 
and  conversations  with  those  who,  we  believe,  are  now  en- 
joying the  uninterrupted  happiness  of  a  better  world,  fills 
the  heart  with  pleasing  sadness,  and  animates  the  soul 
with  the  hopeful  anticipation  of  a  day  when  the  glory  of 
the  Lord  shall  be  revealed  in  the  assembling  of  all  his 
children  together,  never  more  to  be  separated.  Whether 
they  were  rich  or  poor,  while  on  earth,  is  a  matter  of 
trifling  consequence  :  the  valuable  part  of  their  charac- 
ter is,  that  they  are  kings  and  priests  unto  God,  and  this 
is  their  true  nobility.  In  the  number  of  now  departed  be- 
lievers, with  whom  I  once  loved  to  converse  on  the  grace 
and  glory  of  the  kingdom  of  God,  was  the  Dairyman's 
Daughter. 

About  a  week  after  the  funeral,  I  went  to  visit  the 

family  at ,  in  whose  service  the  youngest  sister  had 

lived  and  died,  and  where  Elizabeth  was  requested  to  re- 
main for  a  short  time  in  her  stead. 

The  house  was  a  large  and  venerable  mansion.  It  stood 
in  a  beautiful  valley  at  the  foot  of  a  high  hill.  It  was  em- 
bowered in  fine  woods,  which  were  interspersed  in  every 
direction  with  rising,  falling,  and  swelling  grounds.  The 
manor-house  had  evidently  descended  through  a  long  line 
of  ancestry,  from  a  distant  period  of  time.  The  Gothic 
character  of  its  original  architecture  was  still  preserved 
3* 


90  THE   dairyman's    DAUGHTER. 

in  the  latticed  windows,  adorned  with  carved  di\  isions  and 
pillars  of  stonework.  Several  pointed  terminations  also, 
in  the  construction  of  the  roof,  according  to  the  custom  of 
our  forefathers,  fully  corresponded  with  the  general  fea- 
tures of  the  building. 

One  end  of  the  house  was  entirely  clothed  with  the  thick 
fohage  of  an  immense  ivy,  which  climbed  beyond  cus- 
tomary limits,  and  embraced  a  lofty  chimney  up  to  its  very 
summit.  Such  a  tree  seemed  congenial  to  the  walls  that 
supported  it,  and  conspired  with  the  antique  fashion  of  the 
place  to  carry  imagination  back  to  the  days  of  our  ances- 
tors. 

As  I  approached,  I  was  led  to  reflect  on  the  lapse  of 
ages,  and  the  successive  generations  of  men,  each  in  their 
turn  occupying  lands,  houses,  and  domains  ;  each  in  their 
turn  also  disappearing,  and  leaving  their  inheritance  to  be 
enjoyed  by  others.  David  once  observed  the  same,  and 
cried  out,  "  Behold,  thou  hast  made  my  days  as  a  hand- 
breadth,  and  mine  age  is  as  nothing  before  thee :  verily, 
every  man  at  his  best  estate  is  altogether  Vanity.  Surely 
every  man  walketh  in  a  vain  show ;  surely  they  are  dis- 
quieted in  vain  :  he  heapeth  up  riches,  and  cannot  tell  who 
shall  gather  them." 

Happy  would  it  be  for  the  rich,  if  they  more  frequently 
meditated  on  the  uncertainty  of  all  their  possessions,  and 
the  frail  nature  of  every  earthly  tenure.  "  Their  inward 
thought  is,  that  their  houses  shall  continue  for  ever,  and 
their  dwelling-places  to  all  generations ;  they  call  their  lands 
after  their  own  names.  Nevertheless,  man,  being  in  honor, 
abideth  not ;  he  is  like  the  beasts  that  pjrish.  This  their 
way  is  their  folly ;  yet  their  posterity  approve  their  say- 
ings.   Like  sheep,  they  are  laid  in  the  grave  :  death  shall 


THE   dairyman's   DAUGHTER.  31 

feed  on  them  :  and  their  beauty  shall  consume  in  the  grave 
from  their  dwelling." 

As  I  advanced  to  the  mansion,  a  pleasing  kind  of  gloom 
overspread  the  front :  it  was  occasioned  by  the  shade  of 
trees,  and  gave  a  characteristic  effect  to  the  ancient  fabric. 
I  instantly  recollected  that  death  had  very  recently  visited 
the  house,  and  that  one  of  its  present  inhabitants  was  an 
affectionate  mourner  for  a  departed  sister. 

There  is  a  solemnity  in  the  thought  of  a  recent  death, 
which  will  associate  itself  with  the  very  walls  from  whence 
we  are  conscious  that  a  soul  has  just  taken  its  flight  to 
eternity. 

After  passing  some  time  in  conversation  with  the  supe- 
riors of  the  family,  in  the  course  of  which  I  was  much 
gratified  by  hearing  of  the  unremitted  attention  which  the 
elder  sister  had  paid  to  the  younger,  during  the  illness 
of  the  latter  ;  I  received  likewise  other  testimonies  of  the 
excellency  of  her  general  character  and  conduct  in  the 
house :  I  then  took  leave,  requesting  permission  to  see 
her,  agreeably  to  the  promise  I  had  made  at  the  funeral, 
not  many  days  before. 

I  was  shown  into  a  parlor,  where  I  found  her  alone. 
She  was  in  deep  mourning.  She  had  a  calmness  and 
serenity  in  her  countenance,  which  exceedingly  struck 
me,  and  impressed  some  idea  of  those  attainments  which 
a  further  acquaintance  with  her  afterward  so  much  iu- 
creased. 

She  spoKe  of  her  sister.  I  had  the  satisfaction  of  find, 
ing  that  she  had  given  very  hopeful  proofs  of  a  change  of 
heart,  before  she  died.  The  prayers  and  earnest  exhorta- 
tions of  Elizabeth  had  been  blessed  to  a  happy  effect.  She 
described  what  had  passed  with  such  a  mixture  of  sisterly 


32  THE   DAIRT3IAN's   DAUGHTER. 

affection,  and  pious  dependence  on  the  mercy  Off  God  to 
sinners,  as  convinced  me  that  her  own  heart  was  under 
the  influence  of  "  pure  and  undefiled  religion." 

She  requested  leave  occasionally  to  correspond  with  me 
on  serious  subjects,  stating  that  she  needed  much  instruc- 
tion. She  hoped  I  would  pardon  the  liberty  which  she 
had  taken  by  introducing  herself  to  my  notice.  She  ex- 
pressed a  trust  that  the  Lord  would  overrule  both  the 
death  of  her  sister,  and  the  personal  acquaintance  with 
me  that  resulted  from  it,  to  a  present  and  future  good,  as 
it  respected  herself  and  also  her  parents,  with  whom  she 
statedly  lived,  and  to  whom  she  expected  to  return  in  a 
few  days. 

Finding  that  she  was  wanted  in  some  household  duty,  1 
did  not  remain  long  with  her ;  but  left  her  with  an  assu- 
rance that  I  proposed  to  visit  her  parents  very  shortly. 

"  Sir,"  said  she,  "  I  take  it  very  kind  that  you  have  con- 
descended to  leave  the  company  of  the  rich  and  converse 
with  tlie  poor.  I  wish  I  could  have  said  more  to  you  re- 
specting my  own  state  of  mind.  Perhaps  I  shall  be  bet- 
ter able  another  time.  When  you  next  visit  me,  instead 
of  finding  me  in  these  noble  walls,  you  will  see  me  in  a 
poor  cottage.  But  I  am  happiest  when  there.  Once 
more,  sir,  I  thank  youJor  your  past  kindness  to  me  and 
mine,  and  may  God  in  many  ways  bless  you  for  it !" 

I  quitted  the  house  with  no  small  degree  of  satisfaction, 
in  consequence  of  the  new  acquaintance  which  I  had 
formed.  I  discovered  traces  of  a  cultivated,  as  well  as 
a  spiritual  mind.  I  felt  that  religious  intercourse  with 
those  of  low  estate  may  be  rendered  eminently  useful  to 
others,  whose  outward  station  and  advantages  are  far  above 
their  own. 


THE    dairyman's    DAUGHTER.  33 

How  often  does  it  appear,  that  "  God  hath  chosen  the 
weak  things  of  the  world  to  confound  the  things  which 
are  mighty :  and  base  things  of  the  world,  and  things 
which  are  despised,  hath  God  chosen,  and  things  which 
are  not,  to  bring  to  nought  things  that  are ;  that  no  flesh 
should  glory  in  his  presence." 

It  was  not  unfrequently  my  custom,  when  ray  mind  was 
filled  with  any  interesting  subject  for  meditation,  to  seek 
some  spot  where  the  beauties  of  natural  prospect  might 
help  to  form  pleasing  and  useful  associations.  I  therefore 
ascended  gradually  to  the  very  summit  of  the  hill  adjoin- 
ing the  mansion  where  my  visit  had  just  been  made.  Here 
was  placed  an  elevated  sea-mark  :  it  was  in  the  form  of  a 
triangular  pyramid,  and  built  of  stone.  I  sat  down  on  the 
ground  near  it,  and  looked  at  the  surrounding  prospect, 
which  was  distinguished  for  beauty  and  magnificence.  It 
was  a  lofty  station,  which  commanded  a  complete  circle 
of  interesting  objects  to  engage  the  spectator's  attentionr 

Southward  the  view  was  terminated  by  a  long  range  of 
hills,  at  about  six  miles  distance.  They  met,  to  the  west- 
ward, another  chain  of  hills,  of  which  the  one  whereon  I 
sat  formed  a  link,  and  the  whole  together  nearly  encom- 
passed a  rich  and  fruitful  valley,  filled  with  cornfields  and 
pastures.  Through  this  vale  winded  a  small  river  for 
many  miles  :  much  cattle  were  feeding  on  its  banks.  Herft 
and  there  lesser  eminences  arose  in  the  valley  ;  some 
covered  with  wood,  others  with  corn  or  grass,  and  a  few 
with  heath  or  fern.  One  of  these  little  hills  was  distin- 
guished by  a  parish  church  at  the  top,  presenting  a  striking 
feature  in  the  landscape.  Another  of  these  elevations, 
situated  in  the  centre  of  the  valley,  was  adorned  with  a 
venerable  holly-tree,  which  has  grown  there  for  ages.     Its 


3$  THE   dairyman's    DAUGHTER. 

singular  height  and  wide-spreading  dimensions  not  only 
render  it  an  object  of  curiosity  to  the  traveller,  but  of 
daily  usefulness  to  the  pilot,  as  a  mark  visible  from  the 
sea,  whereby  to  direct  his  vessel  safe  into  harbor.  Vil- 
lages, churches,  country-seats,  farm-houses,  and  cottages, 
were  scattered  over  every  part  of  the  southern  valley.  In 
this  direction  also,  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  where  I  was 
stationed,  appeared  the  ancient  mansion,  which  I  had  just 
quitted,  embellished  with  its  woods,  groves,  and  gardens. 

Southeastward,  I  saw  the  open  ocean,  bounded  only  by 
the  horizon.  The  sun  shone,  and  gilded  the  waves  with 
a  glittering  light  that  sparkled  in  the  most  brilliant  man- 
ner. More  to  the  east,  in  continuation  of  that  line  of 
hills  where  I  was  placed,  rose  two  downs,  one  beycnd  the 
other  ;  both  covered  with  sheep,  and  the  sea  just  visible 
over  the  furthest  of  them,  as  a  terminating  boundary.  In 
this  point  ships  were  seen,  some  sailing,  others  at  anchoB. 
Here  the  little  river,  which  watered  the  southern  valley, 
finished  its  course,  and  ran  through  meadows  into  the  sea, 
in  an  eastward  direction. 

On  tlie  north  the  sea  appeared  like  a  noble  river,  vary- 
ing from  three  to  seven  miles  in  breadth,  between  the 
banks  of  the  opposite  coast  and  those  of  the  island  which 
I  inhabited.  Immediately  underneath  me  was  a  fine 
woody  district  of  country,  diversified  by  many  pleasing 
objects.  Distant  towns  were  visible  du  the  opposite 
shore.  Numbers  of  ships  occupied  the  sheltered  station 
which  this  northern  channel  afforded  them.  The  eye 
roamed  with  delight  over  an  expanse  of  near  and  remote 
beauties,  which  alternately  caught  the  observation,  and 
which  harmonized  together,  and  produced  a  scene  of  pe- 
culiar interest. 


THE    dairyman's    DAUGHTER.  35 

Westward  the  hills  followed  each  other,  forming  several 
intermediate  and  partial  valleys,  in  a  kind  of  undulations, 
like  the  waves  of  the  sea ;  and  bending  to  the  south, 
completed  the  boundary  of  the  larger  valley  before  de- 
scribed, to  the  southward  of  the  hill  on  which  I  sat.  In 
many  instances  the  hills  were  cultivated  with  corn  to 
their  very  summits,  and  seemed  to  defy  the  inclemency  of 
weather,  which,  at  these  heights,  usually  renders  the 
ground  incapable  of  bringing  forth  and  ripening  the  crops 
of  grain.  One  hill  alone,  the  highest  in  elevation,  and 
above  ten  miles  to  the  southwestward,  was  enveloped  in 
a  cloud,  which  just  permitted  a  dim  and  hazy  sight  of  a 
signal-post,  a  lighthouse,  and  an  ancient  chantry,  built 
on  its  summit. 

Amidst  these  numerous  specimens  of  delightful  scenery 
I  found  a  mount  for  contemplation,  and  here  I  indulged  it. 

"How  much  of  the  natural  beauties  of  Paradise  still 
remain  in  the  world,  although  its  spiritual  character  has 
been  so  awfully  defaced  by  sin  !  But  when  divine  grace 
renews  the  heart  of  the  fallen  sinner.  Paradise  is  regained, 
and  much  of  its  beauty  restored  to  the  soul.  As  this 
prospect  is  compounded  of  hill  and  dale,  land  and  sea, 
woods  and  plains,  all  sweetly  blended  together  and  re- 
lieving each  other  in  the  landscape  ;  so  do  the  gracious 
dispositions  wrought  in  the  soul,  produce  a  beauty  and 
harmony  of  scene  to  which  it  was  before  a  stranger." 

I  looked  towards  the  village  in  the  plain  below,  where 
the  Dairyman's  younger  daughter  was  buried.  I  retraced 
the  simple  solemnities  of  the  funeral.  I  connected  the 
principles  and  conduct  of  her  sister  with  the  present  pro- 
bably happy  state  of  her  soul  in  the  world  of  spirits,  and 
was  greatly  impressed  with  a  sense  of  the  importance  of 


86  THE  dairyman's  daughter. 

family  influence  as  a  mean  of  grace.  "  That  young  wo- 
man," I  thought,  "has  been  the  conductor  of  not  only  a 
sister,  but  perhaps  a  father  and  mother  also,  to  the  true 
knowledge  of  God,  and  may,  by  divine  blessing,  become 
so  to  others.  It  is  a  glorious  occupation  to  win  souls  to 
Christ,  and  guide  them  out  of  Egyptian  bondage  through 
the  wilderness  into  the  promised  Canaan.  Happy  are  the 
families  who  are  walking  hand  in  hand  together,  as  pil- 
grims, towards  the  heavenly  country.  May  the  number 
of  such  be  daily  increased  !" 

Casting  my  eye  over  the  numerous  dwellings  in  the 
vales  on  my  right  and  left,  I  could  not  help  thinking, 
"  How  many  of  their  inhabitants  are  ignorant  of  the  ways 
of  God,  and  strangers  to  his  grace  !  May  this  thought 
stimulate  to  activity  and  diligence  in  the  cause  of  immor- 
tal souls  !  They  are  precious  in  God's  sight — they  aught 
to  be  so  in  ours." 

Some  pointed  and  affecting  observations  to  that  effect 
recurred  to  my  mind  as  having  been  made  by  tlie  young 
person  with  whom  I  had  been  just  conversing.  Her 
mind  appeared  to  be  much  impressed  with  the  duty  of 
speaking  and  acting  for  God  "while  it  is  day;"  conscious 
that  the  "night  cometh,  when  no  man  can  work."  Her 
laudable  anxiety  on  this  head  was  often  testified  to  me 
afterward,  both  by  letter  and  conversation.  What  she 
felt  herself,  in  respect  to  endeavors  to  do  good,  she  hap- 
pily communicated  to  others  with  whom  she  corresponded 
or  conversed. 

Time  would  not  permit  my  continuing  so  long  in  the 
enjoyment  of  these  meditations  on  this  lovely  mount  of 
observation,  as  my  heart  desired.  On  my  return  home  I 
wrote  a  few   lines  to  the   Dairyman's  daughter,  chiefly 


THE    dairyman's   DAUGHTER.  37 

dictated  by  the  train  of  thought  which  had  occupied  my 
mind  while  I  sat  on  the  hill. 

On  the  next  Sunday  evening  I  received  her  reply,  of 
which  the  following-  is  a  transcript : 

<*  Sunday. 
Rkv.  Sir, 

"I  am  this  day  deprived  of  an  opportunity  of  attending 
the  house  of  God,  to  worship  him.  But,  glory  be  to  his 
name  !  he  is  not  confined  to  time  nor  place.  I  feel  him 
present  with  me  where  I  am,  and  his  presence  makes  my 
Paradise  ;  for  where  he  is,  is  heaven.  I  pray  God  that  a 
double  portion  of  his  grace  and  Holy  Spirit  may  rest  upon 
you  this  day  ;  that  his  blessing  may  attend  all  your  faith- 
ful labors  ;  and  that  you  may  find  the  truth  of  his  Word, 
assuring  us,  that  wherever  we  assemble  together  in  his 
name,  there  he  is  in  the  midst  to  bless  every  waiting  soul. 

"  How  precious  are  all  his  promises  !  We  ought  never 
to  doubt  the  truth  of  his  Word.  For  he  will  never  deceive 
us  if  we  go  on  in  faith,  always  expecting  to  receive  what 
his  goodness  waits  to  give.  Dear  sir,  I  have  felt  it  very 
consoling  to  read  your  kind  letter  to-day.  I  feel  thankful 
to  God  for  ministers  in  our  church  who  love  and  fear  his 
name  :  there  it  is  where  the  people  in  general  look  for 
salvation  ;  and  there  may  they  ever  find  it,  for  Jesu's 
sake  !  May  his  Word,  spoken  by  you  his  chosen  vessel 
of  grace,  be  made  spirit  and  life  to  their  dead  souls  ! 
May  it  come  from  you  as  an  instrument  in  the  hands  of 
God,  as  sharp  arrows  from  a  strong  archer,  and  strike  a. 
death-blow  to  all  their  sins  !  How  I  long  to  see  the  ar- 
rows of  conviction  fasten  on  the  minds  of  those  that  are; 
hearers  of  the  Word  and  not  doers  !  O  sir  !  be  ambitious 
for  the  glory  of  God  and  the  salvation  of  souls.     It  will 

375921) 


38  THE  dairyman's  daughter. 

add  to  the  lustre  of  your  crown  in  glory,  as  well  as  to 
your  present  joy  and  peace.  We  should  be  willing  to 
spend  and  be  spent  in  his  service,  sayin;;^,  '  Lord,  may  thy 
will  be  done  by  me  on  earth,  even  as  it  is  by  thy  angels 
',n  heaven.'  So  you  may  expect  to  see  his  face  with  joy, 
I  nd  say,  'Here  am  I,  Lord,  and  all  the  souls  thou  hast 
given  me.' 

"  It  seems  wonderful  that  we  should  neglect  any  oppor- 
ti  nity  of  doing  good,  wben  there  is,  if  it  be  done  from 
love  to  God  and  his  creatures,  a  present  reward  of  grace, 
in  reflecting  that  we  are  using  the  talents  committed  to 
our  care  according  to  the  power  and  ability  which  we 
receive  from  him.  God  requires  not  what  he  has  not 
promised  to  give.  But  when  we  look  back,  and  reflect 
that  there  have  been  opportunities  in  which  we  have 
neglected  to  take  up  our  cross  and  speak  and  act  for  God; 
what  a  dejection  of  mind  we  feel!  We  are  then  justly 
filled  with  shame.  Conscious  of  being  ashamed  of  Christ, 
we  cannot  come  with  that  holy  boldness  to  a  throne  of 
grace,  nor  feel  that  free  access  when  we  make  our 
supplications. 

"  We  are  commanded  to  provoke  one  another  to  love 
and  good  works ;  and  where  two  are  agreed  together  in 
the  things  of  God,  they  may  say, 

» /Vnd  if  our  fellowsliip  below 

In  Jesus  t)e  so  sweet, 
What  heiglits  of  rapture  shall  we  kno\r, 

When  round  the  throne  we  meet !' 

•'  Sir,  I  hope  Mrs. and  you  are  both  of  one  heart 

and  one  mind.     Then  you  will  sweetly  agree  in  all  things 
that  make  for  your  present  and  eternal  happiness.    Christ 


THE    dairyman's    DAUGHTER.  39 

sent  his  disciples  out,  not  singly,  but  two  and  two  ;  that 
they  might  comfort  and  help  each  other  in  those  ways  and 
works  which  their  Lord  commanded  them  to  pursue. 

"  It  has  been  my  lot  to  have  been  alone  the  greatest 
part  of  the  time  that  I  have  known  the  ways  of  God.  I 
therefore  find  it  such  a  treat  to  my  soul  when  I  can  meet 
with  any  who  loves  to  talk  of  the  goodness  and  love  of 
God,  and  all  his  gracious  dealings.  What  a  comfortable 
reflection,  to  think  of  spending  a  whole  eternity  in  that 
delightful  employment !  to  tell  to  listening  angels  his 
love,  'immense,  unsearchable  !' 

"  Dear  sir,  I  thank  you  for  your  kindness  and  conde- 
scension in  leaving  those  that  are  of  high  rank  and  birth 
in  the  world,  to  converse  with  me  who  am  but  a  servant 
here  below.  But  when  1  consider  what  a  high  calling, 
what  honor  and  dignity  God  has  conferred  upon  me,  to  be 
called  his  child,  to  be  born  of  his  Spirit,  made  an  heir  of 
glory,  and  joint  heir  with  Christ ;  how  humble  and  cir- 
cumspect should  I  be  in  all  my  ways,  as  a  dutiful  and 
loving  child  to  an  affectionate  and  loving  Father  !  When 
I  seriously  consider  these  things,  it  fills  me  with  love  and 
gratitude  to  God,  and  I  do  not  wish  for  any  higher  station, 
nor  envy  the  rich.  I  rather  pity  them  if  they  are  not  good 
as  well  as  great.  My  blessed  Lord  was  pleased  to  appear 
in  the  form  of  a  servant ;  and  I  long  to  be  like  him. 

"  I  did  not  feel  in  so  happy  a  frame  for  conversation  that 
day,  nor  yet  that  liberty  to  explain  my  thoughts,  which  I 
sometimes  do.  The  fault  must  have  been  all  in  myself; 
for  there  was  nothing  in  you  but  what  seemed  to  evidence 
a  Christian  spirit,  temper,  and  disposition.  I  very  much 
wished  for  an  opportunity  to  converse  with  you.  I  feel 
very  thankful  to  God  that  you  do  take  up  the  cross,  and 


m  THE    DAIRYMAN  S    DAUGHTER. 

despise  the  shame :  if  you  are  found  faithful,  you  will 
soon  sit  down  with  him  in  glory. 

"  I  have  written  to  the  Rev.  Mr. ,  to  thank  him 

for  permitting  you  to  perform  the  Burial  Service,  at , 

over  my  dear  departed  sister,  and  to  tell  him  of  the  kind 
way  in  which  you  consented  to  do  it.  I  should  mention 
that  your  manner  of  reading  the  service  on  that  day  had 
a  considerable  effect  on  the  hearers. 

"Pray  excuse  all  faults,  and  correct  my  errors.  I  ex- 
pect in  a  few  days  to  return  home  to  my  parents'  house. 
VVe  shall  rejoice  to  see  you  there. 

"  From  your  humble  servant  in  Christ, 

«E W ." 

It  was  impossible  to  view  such  a  correspondent  with 
indifference.  I  had  just  returned  from  a  little  cottage  as- 
sembly, where,  on  Sunday  evenings,  I  sometimes  went  to 
instruct  a  few  poor  families  in  one  of  the  hamlets  belong- 
ing to  my  parish.  I  read  the  letter,  and  closed  the  day 
with  thanksgiving  to  God  for  thus  enabling  those  who 
fear  his  name  to  build  up  each  other  in  fear  and  love. 

Of  old  time,  "  they  that  feared  the  Lord  spake  often  one 
to  another  :  and  the  Lord  hearkened  and  heard  it,  and  a 
book  of  remembrance  was  written  before  him,  for  them 
that  feared  the  Lord,  and  that  thought  upon  his  name." 

That  hook  of  remembrance  is  not  yet  closed. 


THE   dairyman's   DAUGHTER.  41 


PART  III. 

The  mind  of  man  is  like  a  moving  picture,  supplied 
with  ()])jects,  not  only  from  contemplation  on  things  pre- 
isent,  but  from  the  fruitful  sources  of  recollection  and 
anticipation. 

Memory  retraces  past  events,  and  restores  an  ideal 
reality  to  scenes  which  are  gone  by  for  ever.  They  live 
again  in  revived  imagery,  and  we  seem  to  hear  and  see 
with  renewed  emotions  what  we  heard  and  saw  at  a 
former  period.  Successions  of  such  recollected  circum- 
stances often  form  a  series  of  welcome  memorials.  In 
religious  meditations  the  memory  becomes  a  sanctified 
instrument  of  spiritual  improvement. 

Another  part  of  this  animated  picture  is  furnished  by  the 
pencil  of  Hope.  She  draws  encouraging  prospects  for  the 
soul  by  connecting  the  past  and  present  with  the  future. 
Seeing  the  promises  afar  off,  she  is  persuaded  of  their 
truth,  and  embraces  them  as  her  own. 

The  Spirit  of  God  gives  a  blessing  to  both  these  acts 
of  the  mind,  and  employs  them  in  the  service  of  religion. 
Every  faculty  of  body  and  soul,  when  considered  as  a  part 
of  "the  purchased  possession"  of  the  Saviour,  assumes  a 
new  character.  IIow  powerfully  does  the  Apostle,  on  this 
ground,  urge  a  plea  for  holy  activity  and  watclifulness  ! 
"  What !  know  ye  not  that  your  body  is  the  temple  of  the 
Holy  Ghost  which  is  in  you,  which  ye  have  of  God,  and 
ye  are  not  your  own  ]  For  ye  are  bought  with  a  price  : 
therefore  glorify  God  in  your  body  and  in  your  spirit, 
which  are  God's." 

4* 


42  THE   DAIRT3IA^-  S    DAUGHTER. 

The  Christian  may  derive  much  profit  and  enjoyment 
from  the  use  of  the  memory  as  it  concerns  those  transac- 
tions in  which  he  once  bore  a  part.  In  his.endeavors  to 
recall  past  conversations  and  intercourse  with  deceased 
friends  in  particular,  the  powers  of  remembrance  greatly 
improve  by  exercise.  One  revived  idea  produces  another, 
till  the  mind  is  most  agreeably  and  usefully  occupied  with 
lively  and  holy  imaginations. 

«'  Lull'd  in  the  countless  chambers  of  the  brain, 
Our  thoughts  are  link'd  by  many  a  hidden  chain ; 
Awake  but  one,  and  lo,  what  myriads  rise! 
Each  stamps  its  image  as  the  other  flies  ; 
Each,  as  the  varied  avenues  of  sense 
Delight  or  sorrow  to  the  soul  dispense, 
Brightens  or  fades :  yet  all,  with  sacred  art, 
Control  the  latent  fibres  of  tlie  heart." 

May  it  please  God  to  bless,  both  to  the  reader  and  the 
writer,  this  feeble  attempt  to  recollect  some  of  the  com- 
munications which  I  once  enjoyed  in  my  visits  to  the 
Dairyman's  dwelling  ! 

Very  soon  after  the  receipt  of  the  last  letter,  I  rode  for 
the  first  time  to  see  the  family  at  their  own  house.  The 
principal  part  of  the  road  lay  through  retired,  narrow 
lanes,  beautifully  overarched  with  groves  of  nut  and  other 
trees,  which  screened  the  traveller  from  the  rays  of  the 
Bun,  and  afforded  many  interesting  objects  for  admiration 
in  the  flowers,  shrubs,  and  young  trees,  which  grew  upon 
the  high  banks  on  each  side  of  the  road.  Many  grotesque 
rocks,  with  little  trickling  streams  of  water  occasionally 
breaking  out  of  them,  varied  the  recluse  scenery,  and  pro- 
duced a  romantic  and  pleasing  effect. 

Here  and  there  the  most  distant  prospect  beyond  was 


THE   dairyman's    DAUGHTER.  43 

observable  through  gaps  and  hollow  places  on  the  road- 
side. Lofty  hills,  with  navy  signal-posts,  obelisks,  and 
lighthouses  on  their  summits,  appeared  at  these  intervals  : 
rich  cornfields  were  also  visible  through  some  of  the  open 
places  ;  and  now  and  then,  when  the  road  ascended  a  hill, 
the  sea,  with  ships  at  various  distances,  was  seen.  But 
for  the  most  part  shady  seclusion,  and  objects  of  a  more 
minute  and  confined  nature,  gave  a  character  to  the  jour- 
ney, and  invited  contemplation. 

How  much  do  they  lose  who  are  strangers  to  serious 
meditation  on  the  wonders  and  beauties  of  nature  !  How 
gloriously  the  God  of  creation  shines  in  his  works  !  Not 
a  tree,  or  leaf,  or  flower,  not  a  bird  or  insect,  but  it  pro- 
claims in  glowing  language,  "  God  made  me." 

As  I  approached  the  village  where  the  good  old  Dairy- 
man dwelt,  I  observed  him  in  a  little  field,  driving  his 
cows  before  him  towards  a  yard  and  hovel  which  adjoined 
his  cottage.  I  advanced  very  near  him  without  his  observ- 
ing me,  for  his  sight  was  dim.  On  my  calling  out  to  him, 
he  started  at  the  sound  of  my  voice,  but  with  much  glad- 
ness of  heart  welcomed  me,  saying — "  Bless  your  heart, 
sir,  I  am  ^/ery  glad  you  are  come  :  we  have  looked  for  you 
every  day  this  week." 

The  cottage-door  opened,  and  the  daughter  came  out, 
followed  by  her  aged  and  infirm  mother.  The  sight  of  me 
naturally  brought  to  recollection  the  grave  at  which  we 
had  before  met.  Tears  of  afTection  mingled  with  the 
smile  of  satisfaction  with  which  I  was  received  by  these 
worthy  cottagers.  I  dismounted,  and  was  conducted  tiirough 
a  neat  little  garden,  part  of  which  was  shaded  by  two  large 
overspreading  elm-trees,  to  the  house.  Decency  and  order 
were  manifest  within  and  without.     No  excuse  was  made 


44    ■  THE    DAIUYMAN's    DAUGHTER. 

here,  du  the  score  of  poverty,  for  confusion  and  unclean- 
liness  in  the  disposal  of  their  little  household.  Every 
thing  wore  the  aspect  of  neatness  and  propriety.  On  each 
side  of  the  fireplace  stood  an  old  oaken  armchair,  where 
the  venerable  parents  rested  their  weary  limbs  after  the 
day's  labor  was  over.  On  a  shelf  in  one  corner  lay  two 
Bibles,  with  a  few  religious  books  and  tracts.  The  little 
room  had  two  windows  ;  a  lovely  prospect  of  hills,  woods, 
and  fields,  appeared  through  one  ;  the  other  was  more 
than  half  obscured  by  the  branches  of  a  vine  which  was 
trained  across  it ;  between  its  leaves  the  sun  shone,  and 
cast  a  cheerful  light  over  the  whole  place. 

"  This,"  thought  I,  "  is  a  fit  residence  for  piety,  peace, 
and  contentment.  May  I  learn  a  fresh  lesson  for  ad- 
vancement in  each  through  the  blessing  of  God  on  this 
visit !" 

"  Sir,"  said  the  daughter,  "  we  are  not  worthy  that  you 
should  come  under  our  roof.  We  take  it  very  kind  that 
you  should  travel  so  far  to  see  us." 

"My  Master,"  I  replied,  "came  a  great  deal  further  to 
visit  us  poor  sinners.  He  left  the  i)osom  of  his  Father, 
laid  aside  his  glory,  and  came  down  to  this  lower  world 
on  a  visit  of  mercy  and  love ;  and  ought  not  we,  if  we 
profess  to  follow  him,  tb  bear  each  other's  infirmities,  and 
go  about  doing  good  as  he  did  ]" 

Tiie  old  man  now  entered,  and  joined  his  wife  and 
daughter  in  giving  me  a  cordial  welcome.  Our  conversa- 
tion soon  turned  to  the  loss  they  had  so  lately  sustained. 
The  pious  and  sensible  disposition  of  the  daughter  was 
peculiarly  manifested,  as  well  in  what  she  said  to  her 
parents,  as  in  what  she  more  immediately  addressed  to 
myself.     I  had  now  a  further  opportunity  of  remarking  the 


THE    DAIRYMAN'S    DAUGHTER.  40 

good  sense  and  agreeable  manner  which  accompanied  her 
expressions  of  devotedness  to  God,  and  love  to  Christ  for 
the  greaX  mercies  which  he  had  bestowed  upon  her.  Dur- 
ing her  residence  in  different  gentlemen's  families  where 
she  had  been  in  service,  she  had  acquired  a  superior  be- 
havior and  address  ;  but  sincere  piety  rendered  her  very 
humble  and  unassuming  in  manner  and  conversation. 
She  seemed  anxious  to  improve  the  opportunity  of  my  visit 
to  the  best  purpose  for  her  own  and  her  parents'  sake  ; 
yet  there  was  nothing  of  unbecoming  forwardness,  no  self- 
confidence  or  conceitedness  in  her  conduct.  She  united 
the  firmness  and  solicitude  of  the  Christian  with  the  mod- 
esty of  the  female  and  the  dutifulness  of  the  daughter. 
It  was  impossible  to  be  in  her  company  and  not  observe 
how  truly  her  temper  and  conversation  adorned  the  prin- 
ciples which  she  prolessed. 

I  soon  discovered  how  eager  and  how  successful  also 
she  had  been  in  her  endeavors  to  bring  her  father  and 
mother  to  the  knowledge  and  experience  of  the  truth. 
This  is  a  lovely  feature  in  the  character  of  a  young  Chris- 
tian. If  it  have  pleased  God  in  the  free  dispensation  of 
his  mercy  to  call  the  child  by  his  grace,  while  the  parent 
remains  still  in  ignorance  and  sin,  how  great  is  the  duty 
incumbent  on  that  child  to  do  what  is  possible  to  promote 
the  conversion  of  those  to  whom  so  much  is  owing! 
Happy  is  it  when  the  ties  of  grace  sanctify  those  of  nature  ! 

The  aged  couple  evidently  regarded  and  spoke  of  this 
daughter  as  their  teacher  and  admonisher  in  divine  things, 
while  at  the  same  time  they  received  from  her  every  token 
of  filial  submission  and  obedience,  testified  by  continual 
endeavors  to  serve  and  assist  them  to  the  utmost  of  her 
power  in  the  daily  concerns  of  the  household. 


4@  THE    DAIRYMAN  S    DAUGHTER. 

The  religion  of  thi-s  young  woman  was  of  a  highly 
spiritual  character,  and  of  no  ordinary  attainment.  Her 
views  of  the  divine  plan  in  saving  the  sinner  were  clear 
and  scriptural.  She  spoke  much  of  the  joys  and  sorrows 
which,  in  the  course  of  her  religious  progress,  she  had 
experienced  ;  but  she  was  fully  sensible  that  there  is  far 
more  in  real  religion  than  mere  occasional  transition  from 
one  frame  of  mind  and  spirits  to  another.  She  believed 
that  the  experimental  acquaintance  of  the  heart  with  God 
principally  consisted  in  so  living  upon  Christ  by  faith,  as 
to  aim  at  living  like  him  by  love.  She  knew  that  the  love 
of  God  towards  the  sinner,  and  the  path  of  duty  prescribed 
to  the  sinner,  are  both  of  an  unchangeable  nature.  In  a 
believing  dependance  on  the  one,  and  an  affectionate  walk 
in  the  other,  she  sought  and  found  "  the  peace  of  God 
which  passeth  all  understanding  ;"  "for  so  he  giveth  his 
beloved  rest." 

She  had  read  but  few  books  besides  her  Bible  ;  but  these 
few  were  excellent  in  their  kind,  and  she  spoke  of  their 
contents  as  one  who  knew  their  value.  In  addition  to  a 
Bible  and  Prayer-book,  "  Doddridge's  Rise  and  Progress," 
"  Romaine's  Life,  Walk,  and  Triumph  of  Faith,"  "Bun- 
yan's  Pilgrim,"  "Alleine's  Alarm,"  "Baxter's  Saints'  Ever- 
lasting Rest,"  a  hymA-book,  and  a  few  tracts,  composed 
her  library. 

I  observed  in  her  countenance  a  pale  and  delicate  hue, 
which  I  afterward  found  to  be  a  presage  of  consumption ; 
and  the  idea  then  occurred  to  me  that  she  would  not  live 
very  long. 

Time  passed  on  swiftly  with  this  interesting  family ; 
and  after  having  partaken  of  some  plain  and  wholesome 
refreshment,  and  enjoyed  a  few  hours'  conversation  with 


THE    DAlfvYMAN's    DAUGHTER.  47 

them,  I  found  it  was  necessary  for  me  to  return  home- 
ward. The  disposition  and  character  of  the  parties  may 
be  in  some  sort  ascertained  by  the  expressions  at  parting. 

"  God  send  you  safe  home  again,"  said  the  aged  mother, 
"  and  bless  the  day  that  brought  you  to  see  two  poor  old 
creatures,  such  as  we  are,  in  our  trouble  and  affliction. 
Come  again,  sir,  come  again  when  you  can  ;  and  though 
I  am  a  poor  ignorant  soul,  and  not  fit  to  talk  to  such  a 
gentleman  as  you,  yet  my  dear  child  shall  speak  for  me  ; 
she  is  the  greatest  comfort  I  have  left,  and  I  hope  the  good 
Lord  will  spare  her  to  support  my  trembling  limbs  and 
feeble  spirits,  till  I  lie  down  with  my  other  dear  departed 
children  in  the  grave." 

"  Trust  to  the  Lord,"  I  answered,  "  and  remember  his 
gracious  promise  ;  '  Even  to  your  old  age  I  am  he  ;  and 
even  to  hoary  hairs  I  will  carry  you.'  " 

"  I  thank  you,  sir,"  said  the  daughter,  "  for  your  Chris- 
tian kindness  to  me  and  my  friends.  I  believe  the  bless- 
ing of  the  Lord  has  attended  your  visit,  and  I  hope  I  have 
experienced  it  to  be  so.  My  dear  father  and  mother  will, 
I  am  sure,  remember  it ;  and  I  rejoice  in  the  opportunity 
of  seeing  so  kind  a  friend  under  this  roof.  My  Saviour  has 
been  abundantly  good  to  me  in  plucking  me  'as  a  brand 
from  the  burning,'  and  showing  me  the  way  of  life  and 
peace  :  and  I  hope  it  is  my  heart's  desire  to  live  to  his 
giory.  But  I  long  to  see  these  dear  friends  enjoy  the 
power  and  comfort  of  religion  likewise." 

"  I  think  it  evident,"  I  replied,  "  that  the  promise  is 
fulfilled  in  their  case  ;  '  It  shall  come  to  pass,  that  at  even- 
ing time  it  shall  be  light'  " 

"  I  believe  it,"  she  sail,  "  and  praise  God  for  the  blessed 
hope." 


48  THE  dairyman's  daughter. 

"  Thank  him  too,  that  you  have  been  the  happy  instru- 
ment of  bringing;  them  to  the  light." 

"  I  do,  sir  :  yet,  when  I  think  of  my  own  unworthiness 
and  insufficiency,  I  rejoice  with  trembling." 

"  Sir,"  said  the  good  old  man,  "  I  am  sure  the  Lord  will 
reward  you  for  this  kindness.  Pray  for  us,  old  as  we  are, 
and  sinners  as  we  have  been,  that  yet  he  would  have  mercy 
upon  us  at  the  eleventh  hour.  Poor  Betsy  strives  much 
for  our  sakes,  both  in  body  and  soul ;  she  works  hard  all 
day  to  save  us  trouble,  and  I  fear  has  not  strength  to  sup- 
port all  she  does  ;  and  then  she  talks  to  us,  and  reads  to 
us,  and  pra}'s  for  us,  that  we  may  be  saved  from  the  wrath 
to  come.     Indeed,  sir,  she's  a  rare  child  to  us." 

"  Peace  be  to  you,  and  to  all  that  belong  to  you  !" 

"  Amen,  and  thank  you,  dear  sir,"  was  echoed  from  each 
tongue. 

Thus  we  parted  for  that  time.  My  returning  medita- 
tions were  sweet,  and,  I  hope,  profitable. 

Many  other  visits  were  afterward  made  by  me  to  this 
peaceful  cottage,  and  I  always  found  increasing  reason  to 
thank  God  for  the  intercourse  I  there  enjoyed. 

An  interval  of  some  length  occurred  once  during  that 
year,  in  which  I  had  not  seen  the  Dairyman's  family.  I 
was  reminded  of  the  circumstance  by  the  receipt  of  the 
following  letter. 

"  Rev.  Sir, 

"  I  have  been  expecting  to  see  or  hear  from  you  for  a 
considerable  time.  Excuse  the  liberty  I  take  in  sending 
you  another  letter.     I  have  been  confined  to  the  house  the 

greater  part  of  the  time  since  I  left .     I  took  cold 

that  day,  and  have  been  worse  ever  since.     I  walk  out  a 


THE    DAIRYMAN  S   DAUGHTER.  '& 

little  on  these  fine  days,  but  seem  to  myself  to  walk  very 
near  on  the  borders  of  eternity.  Glory  be  to  God,  it  is  a 
very  pleasing  prospect  before  me.  Though  I  feel  the 
workings  of  sin,  and  am  abased,  yet  Jesus  shows  his 
mercy  to  be  mine,  and  I  trust  that  I  am  his.  At  such 
times, 

•  My  soul  would  leave  this  heavy  clay 

At  his  transporting  word, 
Run  up  with  joy  the  shining  way 

To  meet  and  prove  the  Lord. 

Fearless  of  hell  and  ghastly  death, 

I'd  break  through  every  foe ; 
The  wings  of  love  and  arms  of  faith 
Would  bear  me  conqu'ror  through.' 

My  desire  is  to  live  every  moment  to  God,  that  I  may, 
through  his  grace,  be  kept  in  that  heavenly,  happy  frame 
of  mind,  that  I  shall  wish  for  at  the  hour  of  death.  We 
cannot  live  nor  die  happy  without  this ;  and  to  keep  it,  we 
must  be  continually  watching  and  praying  :  for  we  have 
many  enemies  to  disturb  our  peace.  I  am  so  very  weak, 
that  now  I  can  go  nowhere  to  any  outward  means  for  that 
help  which  is  so  refreshing  to  my  spirit. 

"  I  should  have  been  very  happy  to  have  heard  you  last 

Sunday,  when  you  preached  at :  I  could  not  walk  so 

far.  I  hope  the  word  spoken  by  you  was  made  a  blessing 
to  many  that  heard  it.  It  was  my  earnest  prayer  to  God 
that  it  might  be  so.  But,  alas  !  once  calling  does  not 
awaken  many  that  are  in  a  sound  sleep.  Yet  the  voice  of 
God  is  sometimes  very  powerful,  when  his  ministers 
epeak ;  when  they  are  influenced  by  his  Holy  Spirit,  and 
are  simple  and  sincere  in  holding  forth  the  Word  of  Life. 
5 


50  THE    dairyman's   DAUGHTER. 

Then  it  will  teach  us  all  things,  and  enlighten  our  mind, 
and  reveal  unto  us  the  hidden  things  of  darkness,  and  give 
us  out  of  that  divine  treasure  '  things  new  and  old.'  Rest- 
ing on  God  to  work  in  us  both  to  will  and  to  do  of  his  own 
good  pleasure,  we  ought  always  to  work  as  diligent  ser- 
vants, that  know  they  have  a  good  Master,  that  will  surely 
not  forget  their  labor  of  love. 

"  If  we  could  but  fix  our  eyes  always  on  that  crown  of 
glory  that  awaits  us  in  the  skies,  we  should  never  grow 
weary  in  well-doing  ;  but  should  run  with  patience,  and 
delight  in  the  work  and  ways  of  God,  where  he  appoints 
us.  We  should  not  then,  as  we  too  frequently  do,  suffer 
these  tritiing  objects  here  on  earth  to  draw  away  cur  minds 
^rom  God,  to  rob  him  of  his  glory,  and  our  souls  of  that 
Happiness  and  comfort  which  the  believer  may  enjoy 
amidst  outward  afflictions.  If  we  thus  lived  more  by  faith  in 
the  Son  of  God,  we  should  endeavor  to  stir  up  all,  whom 
we  could,  to  seek  after  God.  We  should  tell  them  what 
he  has  done  for  us,  and  what  he  would  do  for  them,  if  they 
truly  sought  him.  We  should  show  them  what  a  glorious  ex- 
pectation there  is  for  all  true  believers  and  sincere  seekers. 

"  When  our  minds  are  so  fixed  on  God,  we  are  more 
desirous  of  glorifying  him,  in  making  known  his  goodness 
to  us,  than  the  proud  rich  man  is  of  getting  honor  to  him- 
self. I  mourn  over  my  own  backwardness  to  this  exercise 
of  duty  when  I  think  of  God's  willingness  to  save  the 
vilest  of  the  vile,  according  to  the  dispensations  of  his 
eternal  grace  and  mercy.  O  !  how  amiable,  how  lovely 
does  this  make  that  God  of  love  appear  to  poor  sinners, 
that  can  view  him  as  such.  How  is  the  soul  delighted 
with  such  a  contemplation  !  They  that  have  much  for- 
given, how  much  they  love  ! 


THE   dairyman's   DAUGHTER.  51 

"  These  thoughts  have  been  much  on  my  mind  since  the 

death  of .  I  trust  the  Lord  will  pardon  me  for  neglect. 

I  thought  it  was  my  duty  to  speak  or  write  to  him  ;  you 
remember  what  I  said  to  you  respecting  it.  But  I  still 
delayed  till  a  more  convenient  season.  O  !  how  I  was 
struck  when  I  heard  the  Lord  had  taken  him  so  suddenly. 
I  was  filled  with  sorrow  and  shame  for  having  neglected 
what  I  had  so  often  resolved  to  do.  But  now  the  time  of 
speaking  for  God  to  him  was  over.  Hence  we  see  that 
the  Lord's  time  is  the  best  time.  Now  the  night  of  death 
was  come  upon  him  ;  no  more  work  was  to  be  done.  If 
I  had  done  all  that  lay  in  my  power  to  proclaim  reconcili- 
ation by  Christ  to  his  soul,  whether  he  had  heard  or  no,  I 
should  have  been  clear  of  his  blood.  But  I  cannot  recall 
the  time  that  is  past,  nor  him  from  the  grave.  Had  I 
known  the  Lord  would  have  called  him  so  suddenly,  how- 
diligent  I  should  have  been  to  warn  him  of  his  danger  ! 
But  it  is  enough  that  God  shows  us  what  we  are  to  do,  and 
not  what  he  is  about  to  do  with  us  or  any  of  his  creatures. 
Pray,  sir,  do  all  you  can  for  the  glory  of  God.  The  time 
will  soon  pass  by,  and  then  we  shall  enter  that  glorious 
rest  that  he  hath  prepared  for  them  that  love  him.  I 
)5)ray  God  to  fill  you  with  that  zeal  and  love,  which 
only  can  inspire,  that  you  may  daily  win  souls  to  Christ. 
May  he  deliver  you  from  all  slavish  fear  of  man,  and  give 
you  boldness,  as  he  did  of  old  those  that  were  filled  with 
»he  Holy  Ghost  and  with  power  ! 

"  Remember,  Christ  hath  promised  to  be  with  all  his 
faithful  ministers  to  the  end  of  time.  The  greater  dan- 
ijers  and  difficulties  they  are  exposed  to,  the  more  power- 
ful his  assistance.  Then,  sir,  let  us  fear  none  but  him. 
K  hope  you  will  pray  much  for  me  a  poor  sinner,  that  God 


52  THE  dairyman's  daughtek. 

will  perfect  his  strength  in  my  weakness  of  body  and 
mind.  For  without  him  I  can  do  nothing.  But  when  I 
can  experience  the  teaching  of  that  Holy  One,  I  need  no 
other  teacher.  May  the  Lord  anoint  you  with  the  same, 
and  give  you  every  grace  of  his  Holy  Spirit,  that  you 
may  be  filled  with  all  the  fulness  of  God  ;  that  you  may 
know  what  is  the  height  and  depth,  the  length  and  breadth 
of  the  love  of  God  in  Christ  Jesus  :  that  you  may  be  in 
the  hand  of  the  Lord,  as  a  keen  archer  to  draw  the  bow, 
while  the  Lord  directs  and  fastens  the  arrows  of  convic- 
tion in  the  hearts  of  such  as  are  under  your  ministry  ! 

"  I  sincerely  pray  that  you  may  be  made  a  blessing  to 
him  that  has  taken  the  place  of  the  deceased.  I  have 
heard  that  you  are  fellow-countrymen  :  I  hope  you  are, 
however,  both  as  strangers  in  this  world,  that  have  no 
abiding  place,  but  seek  a  country  out  of  sight. 
"  Pray  excuse  all  faults,  from 

your  humble  servant  in  the 

bonds  of  the  Gospel  of  Christ, 
"  E W ." 

When  I  perused  this  and  other  letters,  which  were  at 
different  times  written  to  me  by  the  Dairyman's  daughter, 
I  felt  .that,  in  the  person  of  this  interesting  correspondent, 
were  singularly  united  the  characters  of  an  humble  dis- 
ciple and  a  faithful  monitor.  I  wished  to  acknowledge  the 
goodness  of  God  in  each  of  these  her  capacities. 

I  sometimes  entertain  a  hope  that  the  last  day  will  un- 
fold tiie  value  of  these  epistolary  communications,  beyond 
even  any  present  e  5timate  of  their  spiritUcJ  importance. 


THE   dairyman's   DAUGHTER.  53 


PART  IV. 

The  translation  of  sinners  "  from  the  power  of  dark- 
ness into  the  kingdom  of  God's  dear  Son,"  is  the  joy  of 
Christians  and  the  admiration  of  angels.  Every  penitent 
and  pardoned  soul  is  a  new  witness  to  the  triumphs  of  the 
Redeemer  over  sin,  death,  and  the  grave.  How  great  the 
change  that  is  wrought !  The  child  of  wrath  becomes  a 
monument  of  grace — a  brand  plucked  from  the  burning  ! 
"  If  any  man  be  in  Christ,  he  is  a  new  creature  :  old 
things  are  passed  away ;  behold,  all  things  are  become 
new."  How  marvellous,  how  interesting,  is  the  spiritual 
history  of  each  individual  believer  !  He  is,  like  David, 
"  a  wonder  to  many,"  but  the  greatest  wonder  of  all  to 
himself.  Others  may  doubt  whether  it  be  so  or  not ;  but 
to  him  it  is  unequivocally  proved,  that,  from  first  to  last, 
grace  alone  reigns  in  the  work  of  his  salvation. 

The  character  and  privileges  of  real  Christians  are 
beautifully  described  in  the  language  of  our  church :  who, 
when  speaking  of  the  objects  of  divine  favor  and  compas- 
sion, says :  "  They  that  be  endued  with  so  excellent  a 
benefit  of  God,  be  called  according  to  God's  purpose  in  due 
season  :  they  through  grace  obey  the  calling  :  they  be  jus- 
tified freely  :  they  be  made  sons  of  God  by  adoption  :  they 
be  made  like  the  image  of  his  only  begotten  Son,  Jesus 
Christ :  they  walk  religiously  in  good  works  ;  and  at  length 
by  God's  mercy  they  attain  to  everlasting  felicity." 

Such  a  conception  and  display  of  the  Almighty  wisdom, 
power,  and  love,  is  indeed  "full  of  sweet,  pleasant,  and 
unspeakable  comfort  to  godly  persons,  and  such  as  feel 
5* 


51  THE   dairyman's   DAUGHTER. 

in  themselves  the  working  of  the  Spirit  of  Christ  mortify- 
ing the  works  of  the  flesh,  and  their  earthly  members  ; 
and  drawing  up  their  minds  to  high  and  heavenly  things  : 
it  doth  greatly  establish  and  confirm  their  faith  of  eternal 
salvation,  to  be  enjoyed  through  Christ,  and  doth  fervently 
kindle  their  love  towards  God." 

Nearly  allied  to  the  consolation  of  a  good  hope  through 
grace,  as  it  respects  our  own  personal  state  before  God, 
is  that  of  seeing  its  evidences  shed  lustre  over  the  dispo- 
sition and  conduct  of  others.  Bright  was  the  exhibition 
of  the  union  between  true  Christian  enjoyment  and  Chris- 
tian exertion,  in  the  character  whose  moral  and  spiritual 
features  I  am  attempting  to  delineate. 

It  seemed  to  be  the  first  wish  of  her  heart  to  prove  to 
others  what  God  had  already  proved  to  her,  that  Jesus  is 
"the  way,  and  the  truth,  and  the  life."  She  desired  to 
evince  the  reality  of  her  calling,  justification,  and  adop- 
tion into  the  family  of  God,  by  showing  a  conformity  to  the 
image  of  Christ,  and  by  walking  "religiously  in  good 
works :"  she  trusted,  that,  in  this  path  of  faith  and  obe- 
dience, she  should  "  at  length,  by  God's  mercy,  attain  to 
everlasting  felicity." 

I  had  the  spiritual  charge  of  another  parish,  adjoining 
to  that  in  which  I  resrded.  It  was  a  small  district,  and 
had  but  few  inhabitants.  The  church  was  pleasantly 
situated  on  a  rising  bank,  at  the  foot  of  a  considerable 
hill.  It  was  surrounded  by  trees,  and  had  a  rural,  retired 
appearance.  Close  to  the  churchyard  stood  a  large  old 
mansion,  which  had  formerly  been  the  residence  of  an 
opulent  and  titled  family ;  but  it  had  long  since  been  ap- 
propriated to  the  use  of  the  estate  as  a  farm-house.  Its 
outward   aspect  bore   considerable   remaizis   of    ancient 


THE    DAIRY3IAN's    DArGHTER.  55 

grandeur,  and  gave  a  pleasing  character  to  the  spot  of 
ground  on  which  the  church  stood. 

In  every  direction  the  roads  that  led  to  this  house  of 
God  possessed  distinct  but  interesting  features.  One  of 
them  ascended  between  several  rural  cottages,  from  the 
seashore,  which  adjoined  the  lower  part  of  the  village 
street.  Another  winded  round  the  curved  sides  of  the 
adjacent  hill,  and  was  adorned  both  above  and  below  with 
numerous  sheep,  feeding  on  the  herbage  of  the  down.  A 
third  road  led  to  the  church  by  a  gently  rising  approach, 
between  high  banks,  covered  with  young  trees,  bushes, 
ivy,  hedge-plants,  and  wild  flowers. 

From  a  point  of  land  which  commanded  a  view  of  all 
these  several  avenues,  I  used  sometimes  for  a  while  to 
watch  my  congregation  gradually  assembling  together  at 
the  hour  of  Sabbath  worship.  They  were  in  some  direc- 
tions visible  for  a  considerable  distance.  Gratifying 
associations  of  thought  would  form  in  my  mind,  as  I  con- 
templated their  approach,  and  successive  arrival,  within 
the  precincts  of  the  house  of  prayer. 

One  day,  as  I  was  thus  occupied,  during  a  short  inter- 
val previous  to  the  hour  of  divine  service,  I  reflected  on 
the  joy  which  David  experienced,  at  the  time  he  exclaim- 
ed:  "1  was  glad,  when  they  said  unto  me.  Let  us  go  into 
the  house  of  the  Lord.  Our  feet  shall  stand  within  thy 
gates,  O  Jerusalem.  Jerusalem  is  builded  as  a  city  that 
is  compact  together  ;  whither  the  tribes  go  up,  the  tribes 
of  the  Lord,  unto  the  testimony  of  Israel,  to  give  thanks 
unto  the  name  of  the  Lord." 

I  was  led  to  reflect  upon  the  various  blessings  connect- 
ed with  the  establishment  of  public  worship.  "  How 
many  immortal  souls  are  now  gathering  together  to  per- 


56  THE  dairyman's  daughter. 

form  the  all-important  work  of  prayer  and  praise — to  hear 
the  word  of  God — to  feed  upon  the  bread  of  life  !  They 
are  leaving  their  respective  dwellings,  and  will  soon  be 
united  together  in  the  house  of  prayer.  How  beautifully 
does  this  represent  the  effect  produced  by  the  voice  of 
*the  Good  Shepherd,'  calling  his  sheep  from  every  part  of 
the  wilderness  into  his  fold  !  As  these  fields,  hills,  and 
lanes,  are  now  covered  with  men,  women,  and  children,  in 
various  directions,  drawing  nearer  to  each  other,  and  to 
the  object  of  their  journey's  end ;  even  so,  many  shall 
come  from  the  east,  and  from  the  west,  and  from  the  north, 
and  from  the  south,  and  shall  sit  down  in  the  kingdom  of 
God.' " 

Who  can  rightly  appreciate  the  value  of  such  hours  as 
these  1 — hours  spent  in  learning  the  ways  of  holy  plea- 
santness and  the  paths  of  heavenly  peace — hours  devoted 
to  the  service  of  God  and  of  souls  ;  in  warning  the  sinner 
to  flee  from  the  wrath  to  come  ;  in  teaching  the  ignorant 
how  to  live  and  die  ;  in  preaching  the  Gospel  to  the  poor ; 
in  healing  the  broken-hearted  ;  in  declaring  "  deliverance 
to  the  captives,  and  recovering  of  sight  to  the  blind." — 
"  Blessed  is  the  people  that  know  the  joyful  sound  :  they 
shall  walk,  O  Lord,  in  the  light  of  thy  countenance.  In 
thy  name  shall  they  rejoice  all  the  day,  and  in  thy  righte- 
ousness shall  they  be  exalted." 

My  thoughts  then  pursued  a  train  of  reflection  on  the 
importance  of  the  ministerial  office,  as  connected  in  the 
purposes  of  God  with  the  salvation  of  sinners.  I  inwardly 
prayed  that  those  many  individuals  whom  he  had  given 
me  to  instruct,  might  not,  through  my  neglect  or  error,  be 
as  sheep  having  no  shepherd,  nor  as  the  blind  led  by  the 
blind  :  but  rather  that  I  might  in  season  and  out  of  season 


THE   dairyman's   DAUGHTER.  57 

faithfully  proclaim  the  simple  and  undisguised  truths  of 
the  Gospel,  to  the  glory  of  God  and  the  prosperity  of  his 
church. 

At  that  instant,  near  the  bottora  of  the  enclosed  lane 
which  led  to  the  churchyard,  I  observed  a  friend,  whom, 
at  such  a  distance  from  his  own  home,  I  little  expected  to 
meet.  It  was  the  venerable  Dairyman.  He  came  up  the 
ascent,  leaning  with  one  hand  on  his  trusty  staff,  and  with 
the  other  on  the  arm  of  a  younger  man,  well  known  to 
me,  who  appeared  to  be  much  gratified  in  meeting  with 
such  a  companion  by  the  way. 

My  station  was  on  the  top  of  one  of  the  banks  which 
formed  the  hollow  road  beneath.  They  passed  a  few 
yards  below  me.  I  was  concealed  from  their  sight  by  a 
projecting  tree.  They  were  talking  of  the  mercies  of 
God,  and  the  unsearchable  riches  of  his  grace.  The  Dai- 
ryman was  telling  his  companion  what  a  blessing  the  Lord 
had  given  him  in  his  daughter.  His  countenance  bright- 
ened as  he  named  her,  and  called  her  his  precious  Betsy. 

I  met  them  at  a  stile  not  many  yards  beyond,  and  ac- 
companied them  to  the  church,  which  was  hard  by. 

"  Sir,"  said  the  old  man,  "  I  have  brought  a  letter  from 
my  daughter — I  hope  I  am  in  time  for  divine  service. 
Seven  miles  is  now  become  a  long  walk  for  me  :  I  grow 
old  and  weak — I  am  very  glad  to  see  you,  sir." 

"  How  is  your  daughter  ]" 

"  Very  poorly  indeed,  sir  ?  very  poorly — the  doctors  say 
it  is  a  decline.  I  sometimes  hope  she  will  get  the  better 
of  it ;  but  then  again  I  have  many  fears.  You  know,  sir, 
that  I  have  cause  to  love  and  prize  her.  O  !  it  would  be 
such  a  trial ;  but  the  Lord  knows  what  is  best.  Excuse 
my  weakness,  sir." 


68  THE  dairyman's  daughter 

He  put  a  letter  into  my  hand,  the  perusal  of  which  I 
reserved  till  afterward,  as  the  time  was  nigh  for  going 
into  church. 

The  presence  of  this  aged  pilgrim,  the  peculiar  rever- 
ence and  affection  with  which  he  joined  in  the  different 
parts  of  the  service,  excited  many  gratifying  thoughts  in 
my  mind  ;  such  as  rather  furthered  than  interrupted  de- 
votion. 

The  train  of  reflection  in  which  I  had  been  engaged, 
when  I  first  discovered  him  on  the  road,  at  intervals  re- 
curred powerfully  to  my  feelings,  as  I  viewed  that  very 
congregation  assembled  together  in  the  house  of  God, 
whose  steps,  in  their  approach  towards  it,  I  had  watched 
with  prayerful  emotions. 

"  Here  the  rich  and  poor  meet  together  in  mutual 
acknowledgment,  that  the  Lord  is  the  Maker  of  them  all ; 
and  that  all  are  alike  dependent  creatures,  looking  up  to 
one  common  Father  to  supply  their  wants,  both  temporal 
and  spiritual. 

"  Again,  likewise,  will  they  meet  together  in  the  grave, 
that  undistinguished  receptacle  of  the  opulent  and  the 
needy. 

"And  once  more,  at  the  judgment-seat  of  Christ  shall 
the  rich  and  the  poor  meet  together,  that  '  every  one  may 
receive  the  things  done  in  his  body,  according  to  that  he 
hath  done,  whether  it  be  good  or  bad.' 

"  How  closely  connected  in  the  history  of  man  are  these 
three  periods  of  a  general  meeting  together  ! 

"  The  house  of  prayer — the  house  appointed  for  all  liv- 
ing— and  the  house  not  made  with  hands,  eternal  in  the 
heavens.  May  we  never  separate  these  ideas  from  each 
other,  but  retain  them  in  a  sacred  and  profitable  union ! 


THE   DAIRYMAN'S   DAUGHTER.  09 

So  shall  our  worshipping  assemblies  on  eartl  be  represen- 
tative of  the  general  assembly  and  church  of  the  first-bom, 
which  are  written  in  heaven." 

When  the  congregation  dispersed,  I  entered  into  dis 
course  with  the  Dairyman  and  a  few  of  the  poor  of  my 
flock,  whose  minds  were  of  like  disposition  to  his  own. 
He  seldom  could  speak  long  together  without  some  refer- 
ence to  his  dear  child.  He  loved  to  tell  how  merciful 
his  God  had  been  to  him,  in  the  dutiful  and  affectionate 
attentions  of  his  daughter.  All  real  Christians  feel  a  ten- 
der spiritual  attachment  towards  those  who  have  been  the 
instrument  of  bringing  them  to  an  effectual  knowledge  of 
the  way  of  salvation  :  but  when  that  instrument  is  one  so 
nearly  allied,  how  dear  does  the  relationship  become  ! 

If  my  friend  the  Dairyman  was  in  any  danger  of  falling 
into  idolatry,  his  child  would  have  been  the  idol  of  his  af- 
fections. She  was  the  prop  and  stay  of  her  parents' 
declining  years,  and  they  scarcely  know  how  sufficiently 
to  testify  the  gratitude  of  their  hearts,  for  the  comfort  and 
bleseipg  which  she  was  the  means  of  affording  them. 

While  he  was  relating  several  particulars  of  his  family 
history  to  the  others,  I  opened  and  read  the  following  letter. 

"Sir, 

"  Once  more  I  take  the  liberty  to  trouble  you  with  a 
few  lines.  I  received  your  letter  with  great  pleasure, 
and  thank  you  for  it.  I  am  now  so  weak,  that  1  am  una- 
ble to  walk  to  any  public  place  of  divine  worship,  a  privi- 
lege which  has  heretofore  always  so  much  strengthened 
and  refreshed  me.  I  used  to  go  in  anxious  expectation 
to  meet  my  God,  and  hold  sweet  communion  with  him, 
and  I  was  seldom  disappointed.    In  the  means  of  grace, 


00  THE    dairyman's    DAUGHTER. 

all  the  channels  of  divine  mercy  are  open  to  every  heart 
that  is  lifted  up  to  receive  out  of  that  divine  fulness  grace 
for  grace.  These  are  the  times  of  refreshing  from  the 
presence  of  the  Lord.  How  have  I  rejoiced  to  hear  a 
faithful  and  lively  messenger,  just  come,  as  it  were,  from 
communion  with  God  at  the  throne  of  grace,  with  his 
heart  warmed  and  filled  with  divine  love,  to  speak  to  fallen 
sinners  !  Such  a  one  has  seemed  to  me  as  if  his  face 
shone  as  that  of  Moses  did  with  the  glory  of  God,  when 
he  came  down  from  the  mount ;  where  he  had  been  within 
the  vail.  May  you,  sir,  imitate  him,  as  he  did  Christ,  that 
all  may  see  and  know  that  the  Lord  dwelleth  with  you, 
and  that  you  dwell  in  him  through  the  unity  of  the  blessed 
Spirit.  I  trust  you  are  no  stranger  to  his  divine  teaching, 
aid,  and  assistance,  in  all  you  set  your  hand  to  do  for  the 
glory  of  God. 

"  I  hope,  sir,  the  sincerity  of  my  wishes  for  your  spirit- 
ual welfare  will  plead  an  excuse  for  the  freedom  of  my 
address  to  you.  I  pray  the  Giver  of  every  perfect  gift, 
that  you  may  experience  the  mighty  workings  of  his  gra- 
cious Spirit  in  your  heart  and  your  ministry,  and  rest  your 
all  on  the  j,ustifying  and  purifying  blood  of  an  expiring 
Redeemer.  Then  will  you  triumph  in  his  strength,  and 
be  enabled  to  say  with  the  poet : — 

•  Shall  I  through  fear  of  feeble  men 
The  Spiiit's  course  strive  to  restrain  1 
Or,  undismay'd  in  deed  and  word, 
Be  a  true  witness  for  my  Lord  ? 

Aw'd  by  a  mortal's  frown,  shall  1 
Conceal  the  word  of  God  most  high  1 
How  then  before  thee  shall  I  dare 
To  fatand,  or  how  thine  anger  bear  1 


THE   dairyman's   DAUGHTrR.  6131 

♦  Shall  I.  to  soothe  tli'  unholy  throng, 
Soften  thy  truths  and  smooth  my  Dngue 
To  gain  earth's  gilded  toys,  or  flee 
The  cross  endur'd,  my  God,  by  thje? 

« What  then  is  he,  whose  scorn  I  dread  1 
Whose  wrath  or  hate  makes  me  afraid  ? 
A  man  1  an  heir  of  death  ?  a  slave 
To  sin,  a  bubble  on  the  wave  ? 

« Yea,  let  men  rage,  since  thou  wilt  spread 
Thy  shadowing  wings  around  my  head  : 
Since  in  all  pain  thy  tender  love 
Will  still  my  sure  refreshment  prove. 

'  Still  shall  the  love  of  Christ  constrain 
To  seek  the  wand'ring  souls  of  men, 
With  cries,  entreaties,  tears  to  save. 
And  snatch  them  from  the  yawning  grave. 

« For  this  let  men  revile  my  name. 
No  cross  I  shun,  I  fear  no  shame : 
All  hail  reproach,  and  welcome  pain, 
Only  thy  terrors,  Lord,  restrain.' 

"  I  trust,  sir,  that  you  see  what  a  glorious  high  calling 
yours  is,  and  that  you  are-  one  of  those  who  walk  humbly 
with  God,  that  you  may  be  taught  of  him  in  all  things. 
Persons  in  ycur  place  are  messengers  of  the  most  high 
God.  Is  it  too  much  to  say,  they  should  live  like  the 
angels  in  all  holiness,  and  be  filled  with  love  and  zeal  for 
men's  souls  1  They  are  ambassadors,  in  Christ's  stead,  to 
persuade  sinners  to  be  reconciled  to  God.  So  that  your 
calling  is  above  that  of  any;els  :  for  they  are  afterward  to 
minister  to  the  heirs  of  sal  nation  ;  but  the  sinner  must  be 
first  reconciled  to  God.  And  you  are  called  on  from  day 
to  day  to  intercede  with  man  as  his  friend,  that  you  may 
6 


62  THE  dairyman's  daughter. 

win  souls  to  Christ.  Christ  is  ascended  up  on  high,  to 
intercede  with  his  Father  for  guihy  sinners,  and  to  plead 
for  them  the  merits  of  his  death.  So  that  Christ  and  his 
faithful  ministers,  through  the  operation  of  the  hlessed 
Spirit,  are  co-workers  together.  Yet,  without  him  we 
can  do  nothing ;  our  strength  is  his  strength,  and  his  is 
all  the  glory  from  first  to  last. 

"  It  is  my  heart's  prayer  and  desire,  sir,  that  you  may, 
by  a  living  faith,  cleave  close  to  that  blessed  exalted  Lamb 
of  God,  who  died  to  redeem  us  from  sin — that  you  may 
have  a  sweet  communion  with  Father,  Son,  and  Spirit — 
that  you  may  sink  deep  in  humble  love,  and  rise  high  in 
the  life  of  God.  Thus  will  you  have  such  discoveries  of 
the  beauties  of  Christ  and  his  eternal  glory,  as  will  fill 
your  heart  with  true  delight. 

"  If  I  am  not  deceived,  I  wish  myself  to  enjoy  his  gra- 
cious favor,  more  than  all  the  treasures  which  earth  can 
afford.  I  would  in  comparison  look  upon  them  with  holy 
disdain,  and  as  not  worth  an  anxious  thought,  that  they 
may  not  have  power  on  my  heart,  to  draw  or  attract  it 
from  God,  who  is  worthy  of  my  highest  esteem,  and  of  ail 
my  alTections.  It  should  be  our  endeavor  to  set  him  alway 
before  us,  that  in  all  things  we  may  act  as  in  his  imme- 
diate presence  :  that  we  may  be  filled  with  that  holy  fear, 
so  that  we  may  not  dare  wilfully  to  sin  against  him.  We 
should  earnestly  entreat  the  Lord  to  mortify  the  power 
and  working  of  sin  and  unbelief  within  us,  by  making 
Christ  appear  more  and  more  precious  in  our  eyes,  and 
more  dear  to  our  hearts. 

"  It  fills  my  heart  with  thankful  recollections,  while  I 
attempt  in  this  weak  manner  to  speak  of  God's  love  to 
man.     When  I  reflect  on  my  past  sins  and  his  past  mer- 


THE    DAIRYMAN  S    DAUGHTER.  Od 

cies,  I  am  assured,  that  if  I  had  all  the  gifts  of  wise  men 
and  angels,  I  could  never  sufficiently  describe  my  own  in- 
ward sense  of  his  undeserved  love  towards  me.  We  can 
better  enjoy  these  glorious  apprehensions  in  our  hearts, 
tlian  explain  them  to  others.  But,  O  !  how  unworthy  of 
then]  all  are  we  !  Consciousness  of  my  own  corruptions 
keeps  me  often  low  ;  yet  faith  and  desire  will  easily  mount 
on  high,  beseeching  God  that  he  would,  according  to  the 
Apostle's  prayer,  fill  me  with  all  his  communicable  fulness, 
in  the  gifts  and  graces  of  his  Spirit ;  that  I  may  walk 
well-pleasing  before  him,  in  all  holy  conversation,  perfect- 
ing lioliness  in  his  fear. 

"  If  I  err  in  boldness,  sir,  pray  pardon  me,  and  in  your 
next  letter  confirm  my  hope,  that  you  will  be  my  counsel- 
lor and  guide. 

**  I  can  only  recompense  your  kindness  to  me  by  my 
prayers,  that  your  own  intercourse  with  God  may  be  abun- 
dantly blessed  to  you  and  yours.  I  consider  the  Saviour 
Baying  to  you,  as  he  did  to  Peter,  '  Lovest  thou  me  V  And 
may  your  heartfelt  experience  be  compelled  to  reply, 
*  Thou  knowest  all  things,  and  thou  knowest  that  I  love 
thee'  supremely.  May  he  have  evident  marks  of  it  in  all 
your  outward  actions  of  love  and  humanity,  in  feeding  his 
flock,  and  in  the  inward  fervor  and  affection  of  all  your 
consecrated  powers  :  that  you  may  be  zealously  engaged  in 
pulling  down  the  strongholds  of  sin  and  Satan,  and  build- 
ing up  his  church ;  sowing  the  seeds  of  righteousness, 
and  praying  God  to  give  the  increase — that  you  may  not 
labor  for  him  in  vain ;  but  may  see  the  trees  bud  and  blos- 
som, and  bring  forth  fruit  abundantly,  to  the  praise  and 
glory  of  your  heavenly  Master.  In  order  to  give  you  en- 
couragement, he  says,  whosoever  'converteth  a  sinner 


^  THE    dairyman's    DAUGHTER. 

from  the  errur  of  his  way,  shall  save  a  soul  from  death  ;* 
and  that  will  increase  the  brightness  of  your  crown  in 
glory.     This  hath  Christ  merited  for  his  faithful  ministers. 

"  I  hope,  sir,  you  will  receive  grace  to  be  sincere  in 
reproving  sin,  wherever  you  see  it.  You  will  find  divine 
assistance,  and  all  fear  and  .shame  taken  from  you.  Great 
peace  will  be  given  to  you,  and  wisdom,  strength,  and 
courage,  according  to  your  work.  You  will  be  as  Paul  ; 
having  much  learning,  you  can  speak  to  men  in  all  sta- 
tions in  life,  by  God's  assistance.  The  fear  of  offending 
them  will  never  prevent  you,  when  you  consider  the  glory 
of  God  ;  and  man's  immortal  soul  is  of  more  value  than 
his  present  favor  and  esteem.  In  particular,  you  are  in  an 
office  wherein  you  can  visit  all  the  sick.  Man's  extremity 
is  often  God's  opportunity.  In  this  way  you  may  prove 
an  instrument  in  his  hand  to  do  his  work.  Although  he  can 
work  without  means,  yet  his  usual  way  is  by  means  :  and 
I  trust  you  are  a  chosen  vessel  unto  him,  to  prove  his 
name  and  declare  his  truth  to  all  men. 

"  Visiting  the  sick  is  a  strict  command,  and  a  duty  for 
every  Christian.  None  can  tell  what  good  may  be  done. 
I  wish  it  was  never  neglected,  as  it  too  often  is.  Many 
think,  that  if  they  attend  in  the  church,  the  minister  to 
preach,  and  the  people  to  hear,  their  duty  is  done.  But 
more  is  required  than  this.  May  the  Lord  stir  i;p  the 
gift  that  is  in  his  people  and  ministers,  that  they  may  have 
compassion  on  their  fellow-sinners,  that  they  may  never 
think  it  too  late,  but  remember,  that,  while  there  is  life, 
there  is  hope. 

"  Once  more,  I  pray,  sir,  pardon  and  excuse  all  my 
errors  in  judgment,  and  the  ignorance  that  this  is  penned 
in  ;  and  may  God  bless  you  in  all  things,  and  particularly 


THE   dairyman's    LAUGHTER.  65 

your  friendship  to  me  and  my  parents.  What  a  com- 
fort is  family  religion !  I  do  not  doubt  but  this  is  your 
desire,  as  it  is  mine,  to  say, 

•  I  and  my  house  will  serve  the  Lord, 
But  first  obedient  to  his  word 

I  must  myself  appear: 
By  actions,  words,  and  tempers  show, 
That  I  my  heavenly  Master  know, 
And  serve  with  heart  sincere. 

'  I  must  tlie  fair  example  set, 
From  those  that  on  my  pleasure  wait 

The  stumbling-block  remove; 
Their  duty  by  my  life  explain. 
And  still  in  all  my  works  maintain 
The  dignity  of  love. 

« Easy  to  be  entreated,  mild, 
Quickly  appeas'd  and  reconciled, 

A  follower  of  my  God: 
A  saint  indeed  I  long  to  be, 
And  lead  my  faithful  family 

In  the  celestial  road. 

*Lord,  if  thou  dost  the  wwh  infuse, 
A  vessel  fitted  for  thy  use 

Into  thy  hands  receive: 
Work  yj  me  both  to  will  and  do, 
And  show  them  how  believers  true 

And  real  Christians  live. 

'  With  al'-sufiicient  grace  supply. 
And  then  I'll  come  to  testify 

The  wonders  of  thy  name, 
Which  saves  from  sin,  the  world,  and  hell: 
Its  power  may  every  sinner  feel, 

And  every  tongue  proclaim  ! 

«C!eans'd  by  the  blood  of  Christ  from  ain, 
I  seek  my  relatives  to  win, 

6* 


09  THE    DAIRYMAN  S    DAUGHTER. 

And  preach  their  sins  forgiven: 
Children,  and  wife,  and  ser\-ants  seize, 
And  throu<rh  the  paths  of  pleasantness, 
Conduct  tliem  all  to  heaven.' 

"  Living  so  much  in  a  solitary  way,  books  are  my  com- 
panions ;  and  poetry,  which  speaks  of  the  love  of  God 
and  the  mercies  of  Christ,  is  very  sweet  to  my  mind. 
This  must  be  my  excuse  for  troublinor  you  to  read  verses 
which  others  have  written,  I  have  intended,  if  my  decli- 
ning state  of  health  permit,  to  go  to for  a  few  days. 

I  say  this,  lest  you  should  call   in   expectation  of  seeing 
me,  during  any  part  of  next  week.     But  my  dear  father 
and  mother,  for  whose  precious  souls  I  am  very  anxious, 
will  reap  the  benefit  of  your  visit  at  all  events.     From 
"  Your  humble  and  unworthy  servant, 

"  E W-^." 

Having  read  it,  I  said  to  the  father  of  my  highly  valued 
correspondent, 

"  I  thank  you  for  being  the  bearer  of  this  letter  :  your 
daughter  is  a  kind  friend  and  faithful  counsellor  to  me,  as 
well  as  to  you.  Tell  her  how  highly  I  esteem  her  friend- 
ship, and  that  I  feel  truly  obliged  for  the  many  excellent 
sentiments  which  sheOias  here  expressed.  Give  her  my 
blessing,  and  assure  her  that  the  oftener  she  writes,  the 
more  thankful  I  shall  be." 

The  Dairyman's  enlivened  eye  gleamed  with  pleasure 
as  I  spoke.  The  praise  of  his  Elizabeth  was  a  string 
which  could  not  be  touched  without  causing  every  nerve 
of  his  whole  frame  to  vibrate. 

His  voice  half  faltered,  as  he  spoke  in  reply :  the  tear 
started  in  his  eyes  ;  his  hand  trembled,  as  I  pressed  it ; 
his  heart  was  full ;  he  could  only  say — 


THE    dairyman's    DAUGHTER.  67 

"  Sir,  a  poor  old  man  thanks  you  for  your  kindness  to 
him  and  his  family  :  God  bless  you,  sir  ;  I  hope  we  shall 
soon  see  you  again." 

Thus  we  parted  for  that  day. 


PART  V. 

It  has  not  unfrequently  been  observed  that  when  it  is 
the  Lord's  pleasure  to  remove  any  of  his  faithful  followers 
out  of  this  life  at  an  early  period  of  their  course,  they 
make  rapid  progress  in  the  experience  of  divine  truth. 
The  fruits  of  the  Spirit  ripen  fast,  as  they  advance  to  the 
close  of  mortal  existence.  In  particular,  they  grow  in 
humility,  through  a  deeper  sense  of  inward  corruption, 
and  a  clearer  view  of  the  perfect  character  of  the  Saviour. 
Disease  and  bodily  weakness  make  the  thoughts  of  eter- 
nity recur  with  frequency  and  power.  The  great  ques- 
tion of  their  own  personal  salvation,  the  quality  of  their 
faith,  the  sincerity  of  their  love,  and  the  purity  of  their 
hope,  is  in  continual  exercise. 

Unseen  realities,  at  such  a  time,  occupy  a  larger  por- 
tion of  thought  than  befoie.  The  state  of  existence  be- 
yond the  grave,  the  invisible  world,  the  unaltered  charac- 
ter of  the  dead,  the  future  judgment,  the  total  separation 
from  every  thing  earthly,  the  dissolution  of  body  and  spirit, 
and  their  reunion  at  the  solemn  hour  of  resurrection, — 
these  are  subjects  for  their  meditation,  which  call  for  ear- 
nestness of  soul.     Whatever  consolations  from  the  Spirit 


G&^  THE    dairyman's    DAUGHTER. 

of  God  they  may  have  enjoyed  heretofore,  they  become 
now  doubly  anxious  to  examine  and  prove  themselves, 
"  whether  they  be  indeed  in  the  faith."  In  doing  this  they 
sometimes  pass  through  hidden  conflicts  of  a  dark  and  dis- 
tressing nature  ;  from  which,  however,  they  come  forth, 
like  gold  tried  in  the  furnace.  Awhile  they  may  sow  in 
tears,  but  soon  they  reap  in  joy. 

Their  religious  feelings  have  then,  perhaps,  less  of  ec- 
stacy,  but  more  of  serenity. 

As  the  ears  of  corn  ripen  for  the  harvest,  they  bow  their 
heads  nearer  to  the  ground.  So  it  is  with  believers  ;  they 
then  see  more  than  ever  of  their  own  imperfection,  and 
often  express  their  sense  of  it  in  strong  language  ;  yet 
they  repose  with  a  growing  confidence  on  the  love  of  God 
through  Christ  Jesus.  The  nearer  they  advance  to  their 
eternal  rest,  the  more  humble  they  become,  but  not  the 
less  useful  in  their  sphere.  They  feel  anxiously  desirous 
of  improving  every  talent  they  possess,  to  the  glory  of 
God,  knowing  that  the  time  is  short. 

I  thought  I  observed  the  truth  of  these  remarks  ful- 
filled in  the  progressive  state  of  mind  of  the  Dairyman's 
daughter. 

Declining  health  seemed  to  indicate  the  will  of  God  con- 
cerning/ her.  But  her  character,  conduct,  and  experience 
of  the  divine  favor,  increased  in  brightness  as  the  setting 
Bun  of  her  mortal  life  approached  its  horizon.  The  last 
letter  which,  with  the  exception  of  a  very  short  note,  I 
ever  received  from-  her,  I  shall  now  transcribe.  It  ap- 
peared to  me  to  bear  the  marks  of  a  still  deeper  acquaint- 
ance with  the  workings  of  her  own  heart,  and  a  more  entire 
reliance  upon  the  free  mercy  of  God. 

The  original,  while  I  copy  it,  strongly  revives  the  image 


THE   DAIRYMAN  S    DAUGHTER.  0» 

of  the  deceased,  and  the  many  profitable  lonversations 
which  I  once  enjoyed  in  her  company,  and  that  of  her 
parents.  It  again  endears  to  me  the  recollections  of  cot- 
tage piety,  and  helps  me  to  anticipate  the  joys  of  that  day, 
when  the  spirits  of  the  glorified  saints  shall  be  reunited 
to  their  bodies,  and  be  for  ever  with  the  Lord. 

The  writer  of  this  and  the  preceding  letters  herself 
little  imagined,  when  they  were  penned,  that  they  would 
ever  be  submitted  to  the  public  eye  :  that  they  now  ar^ 
so,  results  from  a  conviction  that  the  friends  of  the  pious 
poor  will  estimate  them  according  to  their  value  ;  and  a 
hope  that  it  may  please  God  to  honor  these  memorials  of 
the  dead,  to  the  effectual  edification  of  the  living. 

"  Rev.  Sir, 

"  In  consequence  of  your  kind  permission,  I  take  the 
liberty  to  trouble  you  with  another  of  my  ill-written  let- 
ters ;  and  I  trust  you  have  too  much  of  your  blessed  Mas- 
ter's lowly,  meek,  and  humble  mind,  to  be  offended  with 
a  poor,  simple,  ignorant  creature,  whose  intentions  are 
pure  and  sincere  in  writing.  My  desire  is,  that  I,  a  weak 
vessel  of  his  grace,  may  glorify  his  name  for  his  goodness 
towards  me.  May  the  Lord  direct  me  by  his  counsel  and 
wisdom !  May  he  overshadow  me  with  his  presence  ; 
that  I  may  sit  beneath  the  banner  of  his  love,  and  find  the 
'  consolations  of  his  blessed  Spirit  sweet  and  refreshing  to 
my  soul  ! 

"  When  I  feel  that  I  am  nothing,  and  God  is  all  in  all, 
then  I  can  willingly  fly  to  him,  saying,  '  Lord,  help  me  ; 
Lord,  teach  me  ;  be  untc  me  my  Prophet,  Priest,  and 
King.  Let  me  know  the  teaching  of  thy  grace,  and  the 
disclosing  of  thy  love.*     What  nearness  of  a*xess  might 


70  THE    dairyman's    DAUGHTER. 

we  have  if  we  lived  more  near  to  God  !  What  sweet 
communion  might  we  have  with  a  God  of  love  !  He  is 
the  great  I  AM.  How  glorious  a  name  !  Angels  with 
trembling  awe  prostrate  themselves  before  him,  and  in 
humble  love  adore  and  worship  him.     One  says, 

'  While  Uie  first  archangel  sings, 
He  hides  his  face  behind  his  winps.' 

Unworthy  as  I  am,  I  have  found  it  by  experience,  that  the 
more  I  see  of  the  greatness  and  goodness  of  God,  and  the 
nearer  union  I  hope  I  have  had  with  him  through  the 
Spirit  of  his  love,  ihe  more  humble  and  self-abased  I 
have  been. 

"  But  every  day  I  may  say,  '  Lord,  how  little  I  love 
thee,  how  far  I  live  from  thee,  how  little  am  I  like  thee  in 
humility  !'  It  is  nevertheless  my  heart's  desire  to  love 
and  ser\e  him  better.  I  find  the  way  in  which  God  does 
more  particularly  bless  me,  is  when  I  attend  on  the  public 
ordinances  of  religion.  These  are  the  channels  through 
which  he  conveys  the  riches  of  his  grace  and  precious  love 
to  my  soul.  These  I  have  often  found  to  be  indeed  the 
time  of  refreshing  and  strengthening  from  the  presence 
of  the  Lord.  Then  lean  see  my  hope  of  an  interest  in 
the  covenant  of  his  love,  and  praise  him  for  his  mercy  to 
the  greatest  of  sinners. 

"  I  earnestly  wish  to  be  more  established  in  his  ways, 
and  to  honor  him  in  the  path  of  duty,  whilst  I  enjoy  the 
smiles  of  his  favor.  In  the  midst  of  all  outward  afflic- 
tions I  pray  that  I  may  know  Christ,  and  the  power  of  his 
resurrection  within  my  soul.  If  I  were  always  thus,  my 
summer  would  last  all  the  year  ;  my  will  would  then  be 
sweetly  lost  in  God's  will,  and  I  should  feel  a  resignation 
in  every  dispensation  of  his  providence  and  his  grace,  saying. 


THE   dairyman's    DAUGHTER.  71 

'  Good  is  the  will  of  the  Lord  :  Infinite  Wisdom  cannot 
err.'     Then  would  patience  have  its  perfect  work. 

"  But,  alas  !  sin  and  unbelief  often,  too  often,  interrupt 
these  frames,  and  lay  me  low  before  God  in  tears  of  sor- 
row. I  often  think  what  a  happiness  it  would  be,  if  his 
love  were  so  fixed  in  my  heart,  that  I  might  willingly  obey 
him  with  alacrity  and  delight,  and  gradually  mortify  the 
power  of  self-will,  passion,  and  pride.  This  can  only  arise 
from  a  good  hope  through  grace,  that  we  are  washed  in 
that  precious  blood  which  cleanses  us  from  every  sinful 
stain,  and  makes  us  new  crentures  in  Christ.  O  that  we 
may  be  the  happy  witnesses  of  the  saving  power  and  virtue 
of  that  healing  stream  wnich  flows  from  the  fountain  of 
everlasting  love  ! 

"  Sir,  my  faith  is  often  exceedingly  weak  :  can  you  be 
BO  kind  as  to  tell  me,  what  you  have  found  to  be  the  most 
effectual  means  of  strengthening  it  ]  I  often  think  how 
plainly  the  Lord  declares,  Believe  only,  and  thou  shalt  be 
saved.  Only  have  faith  ;  all  things  are  possible  to  him 
that  has  it.  How  I  wish  that  we  could  remove  all  those 
mountains  that  hinder  and  obstruct  the  light  of  his  grace ; 
80  that  having  full  access  unto  God  through  that  ever- 
blessed  Spirit,  we  might  lovingly  commune  with  him  as 
with  the  dearest  of  friends.  What  favor  does  God  bestow 
on  worms  !  And  yet  we  love  to  murmur  and  complain. 
He  may  well  say.  What  should  I  have  done  more,  that  I 
have  not  done  1  or  wherein  have  I  proved  unfaithful  or 
unkind  to  my  faithless  backsliding  children  1 

*•  Sir,  I  pray  that  I  may  not  grieve  him,  as  I  have  done, 
any  more.  I  want  your  counsel  and  your  prayers  for  me 
in  this  matter.  How  refreshing  is  the  sight  of  one  that 
truly  loves  Gcd,  that  bears  his  image  and  likeness  ! 


72  THE  dairyman's  daughter. 

"  But  delightful  as  is  conversation  with  true  oelievers 
on  earth,  whose  hearts  are  lifted  up  to  things  above,  yet 
what  is  this  to  that  happy  day  which  will  admit  us  into 
more  bright  realms  ;  where  we  shall  for  ever  behold  a 
God  of  love  in  the  smiling  face  of  his  Son,  who  is  the  ex- 
press image  of  his  Father  and  the  brightness  of  his  glory! 
Then,  if  found  in  him,  we  shall  be  received  by  the  innu- 
merable host  of  angels  who  wait  around  his  throne. 

"  In  the  mean  time,  sir,  may  I  take  up  my  cross,  and 
manfully  fight  under  Him,  who  for  the  glory  that  was  set 
before  him,  endured  the  cross,  despising  the  shame,  and  is 
now  set  down  at  his  Father's  right  hand  in  majesty  !  I 
thank  you  for  the  kind  liberty  you  have  given  me  of  wri- 
ting to  you.  I  feel  my  health  declining,  and  I  find  a  relief 
during  an  hour  of  pain  and  weakness  in  communicating 
these  thoughts  to  you. 

"  I  hope,  sir,  you  go  on  your  way  rejoicing  ;  that  you 
are  enabled  to  thank  Him  who  is  the  Giver  of  every  good 
gift,  spiritual,  temporal,  and  providential,  for  blessings  to 
yourself  and  your  ministry.  I  do  not  doubt  but  you  often 
meet  with  circumstances,  which  are  not  pleasing  to  na- 
ture, yet,  by  the  blessing  of  God,  they  will  be  all  profit- 
able in  the  end.  They  are  kindly  designed  by  grace  to 
make  and  keep  us  humble.  The  difficulties  which  you 
spoke  of  to  me  some  time  since  will,  I  trust,  disappear. 

"  My  dear  father  and  mother  are  as  well  as  usual  in 
bodily  health,  and  I  hope  grow  in  grace,  and  in  the  know- 
ledge and  lave  of  Jesus  Christ.  My  chief  desire  to  live 
is  for  their  sakes.  It  now  seems  long  since  we  have  seen 
you.  I  am  almost  ashamed  to  request  you  to  come  to  our 
little  cottage  to  visit  those  who  are  so  much  belwv  your 
station  in  life.    But  if  you  cannot  come,  we  shall  be  very 


THE   dairyman's   DAUGHTER.  73 

glad  if  you  will  write  a  few  lines.  I  oug'iit  to  make  an 
excuse  for  my  letter,  I  spell  so  badly  :  this  was  a  great, 
neglect  when  I  was  young.  I  gave  myself  greatly  tO' 
reading,  but  not  to  the  other,  and  now  I  am  too  weak  and' 
feeble  to  learn  much. 

"  I  hear  sometimes  of  persons  growing  serious  in  your 
congregation.  It  gives  me  joy,  and  if  true,  I  am  sure  it 
does  so  to  yourself.  I  long  for  the  pure  Gospel  of  Christ 
to  be  preached  in  every  church  in  the  world,  and  for  the 
time  when  all  shall  know,  love,  and  fear  the  Lord  ;  and 
the  uniting  Spirit  of  God  shall  make  them  of  one  heart  and 
mind  in  Christ  our  great  Head.  Your  greatest  joy,  I  know, 
will  be  in  laboring  much  for  the  glory  of  God  in  the  sal- 
vation of  men's  souls.  You  serve  a  good  Master.  You 
have  a  sure  reward.  I  pray  God  to  give  you  strength  ac- 
cording to  your  day. 

"  Pray,  sir,  do  not  be  offended  at  the  freedom  and  man- 
ner of  my  writing.  My  parents'  duty  and  love  to  you  are^ 
sent  with  these  lines,  from 

"Your  humble  servant  in  Christ, 

"E W ."• 

Epistolary  communications,  when  written  in  sincerity 
of  heart,  afford  genuine  portraits  of  the  mind.     May  the 
foregoing  be  viewed  with  Christian  candor,  and  conse- 
crated to  affectionate  memory ! 
7 


74  THE  dairyman's  daughter. 


PART  VI. 

Travellers,  as  they  pass  through  the  country,  usually 
stop  to  inquire  whose  are  the  splendid  mansions  which 
they  discover  among  the  woods  and  plains  around  them. 
The  families,  titles,  fortune,  or  character  of  the  respective 
■owners,  engage  much  attention.  Perhaps  their  houses  are 
•exhibited  to  the  admiring  stranger.  The  elegant  rooms, 
costly  furniture,  valuable  paintings,  beautiful  gardens  and 
shrubberies  are  universally  approved ;  while  the  rank, 
fashion,  taste,  and  riches  cf  the  possessor,  afford  ample 
materials  for  entertaining  discussion.  In  the  mean  time, 
the  lowly  cottage  of  the  poor  husbandman  is  passed  by  as 
scarcely  deserving  of  notice.  Yet  perchance  such  a  cot- 
tage may  often  contain  a  treasure  of  infinitely  more  value 
than  the  sumptuous  palace  of  the  rich  man,  even  "  the 
pearl  of  great  price."  If  this  be  set  in  the  heart  of  the 
poor  cottager,  it  proves  a  gem  of  unspeakable  worth, 
and  will  shine  among  the  brightest  ornaments  of  the  Re- 
deemer's crown,  in  that  day  when  he  maketh  up  his 
"jewels." 

Hence,  the  Christian  traveller,  while  in  common  w^ith 
'Others  he  bestows  his  due  share  of  applause  on  the  deco- 
rations of  the  rich,  and  is  not  insensible  to  the  beauties 
and  magnificence  which  are  the  lawfully  allowed  appen- 
dages of  rank  and  fortune,  cannot  overlook  the  humbler 
dwelling  of  the  poor.  And  if  he  should  find  that  true  piety 
and  grace  beneath  the  thatched  roof  which  he  has  in  vain 
looked  for  amidst  the  worldly  grandeur  of  the  rich,  he 
jemembers  the  declarations  in  the  word  of  God.    He  Bees 


THE  dairyman's  daughtek..  75 

with  admiration,  that  "  the  high  and  lofty  One,  that  inhab- 
iteth  eternity,  whose  name  is  Holy,  who  dwelleth  in  the 
high  and  holy  place,  dwelleth  with  him  also  that  is  of  a 
contrite  and  humble  spirit,"  (Isaiah  Ivii.  15,)  and  although 
heaven  is  his  throne,  and  the  earth  his  footstool,  yet,  when 
a  house  is  to  be  built,  and  a  place  of  rest  to  be  sought  for 
himself,  he  says,  "  To  this  man  will  I  look,  even  to  him 
that  is  poor,  and  of  a  contrite  spirit,  and  trembleth  at  my 
word." — Isa.  Ixii.  1,  2. 

When  a  house  is  thus  tenanted,  faith  beholds  this  in- 
scription written  on  the  walls.  The  Lord  lives  here.  Faith 
therefore  cannot  pass  it  by  unnoticed,  but  loves  to  lift  up 
the  latch  of  the  door,  and  to  sit  down  and  converse  with 
the  poor,  although  perhaps  despised  inhabitant.  Many  a 
sweet  interview  does  Faith  obtain,  when  she  thus  takes 
her  walks  abroad.  Many  such  a  sweet  interview  have  I 
myself  enjoyed  beneath  the  roof  where  dwelt  the  Dairy- 
man and  his  little  family. 

I  soon  perceived  that  his  daughter's  health  was  rapidly 
on  the  decline.  The  pale  wasting  consumption,  which  is 
the  Lord's  instrument  for  removing  so  many  thousands 
every  year  from  the  land  of  the  living,  made  hasty  strides 
on  her  constitution  The  hollow  eye,  the  distressing 
cough,  and  the  often  too  flattering  flush  on  the  cheek, 
foretold  the  approach  of  death. 

What  a  field  for  usefulness  and  affectionate  attention, 
on  the  part  of  Ministers  and  Christian  friends,  is  opened 
by  the  frequent  attacks,  and  lingering  process  of  consump- 
tive illness  !  How  many  such  precious  opportunities  are 
daily  lost,  where  Providence  seems  in  so  marked  a  way  to 
afford  time  and  space  for  serious  and  godly  instruction  ! 
Of  how  many  may  it  be  said,  "The  way  of  peace  have 


T6  THE  dairyiuan's  daughter. 

they  not  Known  !"  for  not  one  friend  ever  came  nigh,  to 
warn  them  to  '•  flee  from  the  wrath  to  come." 

But  the  Dairyman's  daughter  was  happily  made  ac- 
quainted with  the  things  which  belonged  to  her  everlast- 
ing peace  before  the  present  disease  had  taken  root  in  her 
constitution.  In  my  visits  to  her,  I  went  rather  to  receive 
information  than  to  impart  it.  Her  mind  was  absolutely 
stored  with  divine  truths,  and  her  conversation  was  truly 
edifying.  The  recollection  of  it  will  ever  produce  a  thank- 
ful sensation  in  my  heart. 

I  one  day  received  a  short  note  to  the  following  effect : 

Dear  Sir, 

"  I  should  be  very  glad,  if  your  convenience  will  al- 
low, that  you  would  come  and  see  a  poor  unworthy  sinner  : 
my  hour-glass  is  nearly  run  out,  but  I  hope  I  can  see 
Christ  to  be  precious  to  my  soul.  Your  conversation  has 
often  been  blessed  to  me,  and  I  now  feel  the  need  of  it  more 
than  ever.  My  father  and  mother  send  their  duty  to  you. 
"Fronv>your  obedient, 

"  And  unworthy  servant, 

"E W ." 

I  obeyed  the  summons  that  same  afternoon.  On  my 
jxrrival  at  the  Dairyman's  cottage,  his  wife  opened  the 
door.  The  tears  streamed  down  her  cheek,  as  she  silent- 
ly shook  her  head.  Her  heart  was  full.  She  tried  to 
speak,  but  could  not.     I  took  her  by  the  hand,  and  said, 

"  My  good  friend,  all  is  right,  and  as  the  Lord  of  wisdom 
and  mercy  directs." 

"  O  !  my  Betsy,  my  dear  girl,  is  so  bad,  sir  :  what  shall 
I  do  without  her  1 — I  thought  I  should  have  gone  first  to 
the  grave,  but " 


THE    DAIKYMAM's    DAUGHTER.  77 

"But  the  Lord  sees  good  that  before  you  die  yourself, 
you  sliould  behold  your  child  safe  home  to  glory.  Is  there 
no  mercy  in  this  ?" 

"  O  dear  sir  !  I  am  very  old  and  very  weak  ;  and  she  is  a 
dear  child,  the  staff  and  prop  of  a  poor  old  creature  as  I  am." 

As  I  advanced,  I  saw  Elizabeth  sitting  by  the  fireside, 
supported  in  an  armchair  by  pillows,  with  every  mark  ot 
rapid  decline  and  approaching  death.  A  sweet  smile  ot 
friendly  complacency  enlightened  her  pale  countenance, 
as  she  said, 

"  This  is  very  kind  indeed,  sir,  to  come  so  soon  after  I 
sent  to  you.  You  find  me  daily  wasting  away,  and  I  can- 
not have  long  to  continue  here.  My  flesh  and  my  heart 
fail  ;  but  God  is  the  strength  of  my  weak  heart,  and  I 
trust  will  be  my  portion  for  ever." 

The  conversation  was  occasionally  interrupted  by  her 
cough  and  want  of  breath.  Her  tone  of  voice  was  clear, 
though  feeble  ;  her  manner  solemn  and  collected,  and  her 
eye,  though  more  dim  than  formerly,  by  no  means  wanting 
in  liveliness,  as  she  spoke.  I  had  frequently  admired  the 
superior  language  in  which  she  expressed  her  ideas,  as 
well  as  the  scriptural  consistency  with  which  she  commu- 
nicated her  thoughts.  She  had  a  good  natural  under- 
standing ;  and  grace,  as  is  generally  the  case,  had  much 
improved  it.  On  the  present  occasion  I  could  not  help 
thinking  she  was  peculiarly  favored.  The  whole  strength 
of  gracious  and  natural  attainments  seemed  to  be  in  full 
exercise. 

After  taking  my  seat  between  the  daughter  and  the 
mother,  (the  latter  fixing  her  fond  eyes  upon  her  child 
with  great  anxiety  while  we  were  conversing,)  I  said  to 
Elizabeth — 

7* 


78  THE  dairyman's  daughtek. 

"  I  hope  you  enjoy  a  sense  of  the  Divine  presence,  and 
can  rest  all  upon  Him  who  has  '  been  with  thee,'  and  has 
kept '  thee  in  all  places  whither  thou  hast  gone,'  and  will 
bring  thee  into  'the  land  of  pure  delights,  where  saints  im- 
mortal reign.'  " 

"  Sir,  I  think  I  can.  My  mind  has  lately  been  some- 
times clouded,  but  I  believe  it  has  been  partly  owing  to 
the  great  weakness  and  suffering  of  my  bodily  frame,  and 
partly  to  the  envy  of  my  spiritual  enemy,  who  wants  to 
persuade  me  that  Christ  has  no  love  for  me,  and  that  I 
have  been  a  self-deceiver." 

"  And  do  you  give  way  to  his  suggestions  ?  Can  you 
doubt  amidst  such  numerous  tokens  of  past  and  present 
mercy  ?" 

"No,  sir,  I  mostly  am  enabled  to  preserve  a  clear  evi- 
dence of  his  love.  I  do  not  v»'ish  to  add  to  my  other  sins 
that  of  denying  his  manifest  goodness  to  my  soul.  I 
would  acknowledge  it  to  his  praise  and  glory." 

"  What  is  your  present  view  of  the  state  in  which  you 
were,  before  you  felt  seriously  concerned  about  the  salva- 
tion of  j'our  soul?" 

"  Sir,  I  was  a  proud,  thoughtless  girl,  fond  of  dress  and 
finery  ;  I  loved  the  world,  and  the  things  that  are  in  the 
world ;  I  lived  in  service  among  worldly  people,  and 
never  had  the  happiness  of  being  in  a  family  where  wor- 
ship was  regarded,  and  the  souls  of  the  servants  cared  for 
either  by  master  or  mistress.  I  went  once  on  a  Sunday 
to  church,  more  to  see  and  be  seen,  than  to  pray  or  hear 
the  Word  of  God.  I  thought  I  was  quite  good  enough  to 
be  saved,  and  disliked,  and  often  laughed  at  religious  peo- 
ple. I  was  in  great  darkness  ;  I  knew  nothing  of  the  way 
of  salvation  ;  I  never  prayed,  nor  was  sensible  of  the  aw 


THE   dairyman's   DAUGHTER.  79 

ful  danger  of  a  prayerless  state.  I  wished  to  maintain  the 
character  of  a  good  servant,  and  was  much  lifted  up  when- 
ever I  met  with  applause.  I  was  tolerably  moral  and 
decent  in  my  conduct,  from  motives  of  carnal  and  worldly 
policy  ;  but  I  was  a  stranger  to  God  and  Christ ;  I  neg- 
lected my  soul ;  and  had  I  died  in  such  a  state,  hell  must, 
and  would  justly,  have  been  my  portion." 

"  How  long  is  it  since  you  heard  the  sermon  which  you 
hope,  through  God's  blessing,  effected  your  conversion "?" 

"  About  five  years  ago." 

"How  was  it  brought  about  1" 

"  It  was  reported  that  a  Mr.  • ,  who  was  detained  by 

contrary  winds  from  embarking  on  board  ship  as  chaplain 

to  a  distant  part  of  the  world,  was  to  preach  at church. 

Many  advised  me  not  to  go,  for  fear  he  should  turn  my 
head  ;  as  they  said  he  held  strange  notions.  But  curiosity, 
and  an  opportunity  of  appearing  in  a  new  gown,  which  I 
was  very  proud  of,  induced  me  to  ask  leave  of  my  mistress 
to  go.  Indeed,  sir,  I  had  no  better  motives  than  vanity 
and  curiosity.  Yet  thus  it  pleased  the  Lord  to  order  it  for 
his  own  glory. 

"  I  accordingly  went  to  church,  and  saw  a  great  crowd 
of  people  collected  together.  I  often  think  of  the  contrary 
Btates  of  my  mind  during  the  former  and  latter  part  of  the 
service.  For  awhile,  regardless  of  the  worship  of  God,  I 
looked  around  me,  and  was  anxious  to  attract  notice  my- 
self.  My  dress,  like  that  of  too  many  gay,  vain,  and  silly 
servant  girls,  was  much  above  my  station,  and  very  dif- 
ferent from  that  which  becomes  an  humble  sinner,  who 
^as  a  modest  sense  of  propriety  and  decency.  The  state 
of  my  mind  was  visible  enough  from  the  foolish  finery  of 
my  apparel 


80  THE    dairyman's    DAUGHTER. 

"  At  length  the  clergyman  gave  out  his  text :  '  Be  ye 
clothed  with  humility.'  He  drew  a  comparison  between 
the  clothing  of  the  body  with  that  of  the  soul.  At  a  very 
early  part  of  his  discourse,  I  began  to  feel  ashamed  of  my 
passion  for  fine  dressing  and  apparel ;  but  when  he  came 
to  describe  the  garment  of  salvation  with  which  a  Chris- 
tian is  clothed,  I  felt  a  powerful  discovery  of  the  nakedness 
of  my  own  soul.  I  saw  that  I  had  neither  the  humility 
mentioned  in  the  text,  nor  any  one  part  of  the  true  Chris- 
tian character.  I  looked  at  my  gay  dress,  and  blushed 
for  shame  on  account  of  my  pride.  I  looked  at  the  minis- 
ter, and  he  seemed  to  be  as  a  messenger  sent  from  heaven, 
to  open  my  eyes.  I  looked  at  the  congregation,  and  won- 
dered whether  any  one  else  felt  as  I  did.  I  looked  at  my 
heart,  and  it  appeared  full  of  iniquity.  I  trembled  as  he 
spoke,  and  yet  I  felt  a  great  drawing  of  heart  to  the  words 
he  uttered. 

"  He  opened  the  riches  of  divine  grace  in  God's  method 
of  saving  the  sinner.  I  was  astonished  at  what  I  had  been 
doing  all  the  days  of  my  life.  He  described  the  meek, 
lowly,  and  humble  example  of  Christ ;  I  felt  proud,  lofty, 
vain,  and  self-consequential.  He  represented  Christ  as 
'  Wisdom  ;'  I  felt  my  ignorance.  He  held  him  forth  as 
'  Righteousness  ;'  I  was  convinced  of  my  own  guilt.  He 
proved  him  to  be  '  Sanctification  ;'  I  saw  my  corruption. 
He  proclaimed  him  as  '  Redemption  ;'  I  felt  my  slavery  to 
sin,  and  my  captivity  to  Satan.  He  concluded  with  an 
animated  address  to  sinners,  in  which  he  exhorted  them  to 
flee  from  the  wrath  to  come,  to  cast  off  the  love  of  out- 
ward ornaments,  to  put  on  Jesus  Christ,  and  be  clothed 
with  true  humility. 

"  From  that  hour  I  never  lost  sight  of  the  value  of  my 


THE    dairyman's    DAUGHTER.  81 

Boul  and  the  daiiger  of  a  sinful  state.  I  inwardly  blessed 
God  for  the  sermon,  although  my  mind  was  in  a  state  of 
great  confusion. 

"  The  preacher  had  brought  forward  the  ruling  passion 
of  my  heart,  which  was  pride  in  outward  dress  ;  and  by 
the  grace  of  God  it  was  made  instrumental  to  the  awaken- 
ing of  my  soul.  Happy,  sir,  would  it  be,  if  many  a  poor 
girl,  like  myself,  were  turned  from  the  love  of  outward 
adorning  and  putting  on  of  fine  apparel,  to  seek  that  which 
is  not  corruptible,  even  the  ornament  of  a  meek  and  quiet 
spirit,  which  is  in  the  sight  of  God  of  great  price. 

"  The  greatest  part  of  the  congregation,  unused  to  such 
faithful  and  scriptural  sermons,  disliked  and  complained 
of  the  severity  of  the  preacher :  while  a  few,  as  I  after- 
ward found,  like  myself,  were  deeply  affected,  and  ear- 
nestly wished  to  hear  him  again.  But  he  preached  there 
no  more. 

"  From  that  time  I  was  led,  through  a  course  of  private 
prayer,  reading,  and  meditation,  to  see  my  lost  estate  as 
a  sinner,  and  the  great  mercy  of  God  through  Jesus  Christ, 
in  raising  sinful  dust  and  ashes  to  a  share  in  the  glorious 
happiness  of  heaven.  And,  O  sir  !  what  a  Saviour  I  have 
found  !  He  is  more  than  I  could  ask  or  desire.  In  his 
fulness  I  have  found  all  that  my  poverty  could  need  :  in 
his  bosom  I  have  found  a  resting-place  from  all  sin  and 
sorrow  ;  in  his  word  I  have  found  strength  against  doubt 
and  unbelief." 

"  Were  you  not  soon  convinced,"  I  said,  "  that  your 
salvation  must  be  an  act  of  entire  grace  on  the  ])art  of 
God,  wholly  independent  of  your  own  previous  works  or 
deservings]" 

**Dear  sir,  what  were  my  works  before  I  heard  that  ser- 


m 


THE    DAIRYMAN  S    DAUGHTEU. 


mon,  but  evil,  carnal,  selfish,  and  ungodly  1  The  thoughts 
of  my  heart,  from  my  youth  upward,  were  only  evil,  and 
that  continually.  And  my  deservings,  what  were  they, 
but  the  deservings  of  a  fallen,  depraved,  careless  soul,  that 
regarded  neither  law  nor  gospel  ]  Yes,  sir,  I  immediately 
saw  that  if  ever  I  was  saved,  it  must  be  by  the  free  mercy 
of  God,  and  that  the  whole  praise  and  honor  of  the  work 
would  be  his  from  first  to  last." 

"  What  change  did  you  perceive  in  yourself  with  respect 
to  the  world  ?" 

"  It  appeared  all  vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit.  I  found 
it  necessary  to  my  peace  of  mind  to  come  out  from  among 
them  and  be  separate.  I  gave  myself  to  prayer ;  and 
many  a  happy  hour  of  secret  delight  I  enjoyed  in  commu- 
nion with  God.  Often  I  mourned  over  my  sins,  and  some- 
times had  a  great  conflict  through  unbelief,  fear,  tempta- 
tion to  return  back  again  to  my  old  ways,  and  a  variety  of 
difficulties  which  lay  in  my  way.  But  He  who  loved  me 
with  an  everlasting  love,  drew  me  by  his  loving-kindness, 
showed  me  the  way  of  peace,  gradually  strengthened  me 
in  ray  resolutions  of  leading  a  new  life,  and  taught  me, 
that  while  without  him  I  could  do  nothing,  I  yet  might 
do  all  things  through  his  strength." 

"  Did  you  not  find  many  difficulties  in  your  situation, 
owing  to  your  change  of  principle  and  practice  3" 

"  Yes,  sir,  every  day  of  my  life.  I  was  laughed  at  by 
some,  scolded  at  by  others,  scorned  by  enemies,  and  pitied 
by  friends.  I  was  called  hypocrite,  saint,  false  deceiver, 
and  many  more  names  which  were  meant  to  render 
me  hateful  in  the  sight  of  the  world.  But  I  esteemed 
the  reproach  of  the  cross  an  honor.  I  forgave  and  prayed 
for    my  persecutors,   and   remembered   how  very  lately 


THE   dairyman's   DAUGHTER.  8b 

I  had  acted  the  same  part  towards  others  myself.  I 
thought  also  that  Christ  endured  the  contradiction  of  sin- 
ners ;  and,  as  the  disciple  is  not  above  his  Master,  I  was 
glad  to  be  in  any  way  conformed  to  his  sufferings." 

"  Did  you  not  then  feel  for  your  family  at  home  1" 

"  Yes,  that  I  did  indeed,  sir  ;  they  were  never  out  of  my 
thoughts.  I  prayed  continually  for  them,  and  had  a  long- 
ing desire  to  do  them  good.  In  particular  I  felt  for  my 
father  and  mother,  as  they  were  getting  into  years  and 
were  very  ignorant  and  dark  in  matters  of  religion." 

"  Ay,"  interrupted  her  mother,  sobbing,  "  ignorant  and 
dark,  sinful  and  miserable  we  were,  till  this  dear  Betsy — 
— this  dear  Betsy — this  dear  child,  sir,  brought  Christ 
Jesus  home  to  her  poor  father  and  mother's  house." 

"  No,  dearest  mother,  say  rather,  Christ  Jesus  brought 
your  poor  daughter  home,  to  tell  you  what  he  had  done  for 
her  soul,  and,  I  hope,  to  do  the  same  for  yours." 

At  this  moment  the  Dairyman  came  in  with  two  pails 
of  milk  hanging  from  the  yoke  on  his  shoulders.  He  had 
stood  behind  the  half-opened  door  for  a  few  moments,  and 
heard  the  last  sentences  spoken  by  his  wife  and  daughter. 

"Blessing  and  mercy  upon  her  !"  said  he,  "it  is  very 
true  ;  she  left  a  good  place  of  service  on  purpose  to  live 
with  us  that  she  might  help  us  both  in  soul  and  body.  Sir, 
don't  she  look  very  ill  1  I  think,  sir,  we  shan't  have  her 
here  long." 

"  Leave  that  to  the  Lord,"  said  Elizabeth.  "  All  our 
times  are  in  his  hand,  and  happy  it  is  that  they  are.  I  am 
willing  to  go  ;  are  not  you  willing,  my  father,  to  part  with 
me  into  his  hands,  who  gave  me  to  you  at  first  V 

"  Ask  me  any  question  in  the  world  but  that,"  said  the 
weeping  father. 


84  THE  dairyman's  daughter. 

"  I  know,"  said  she,  "  you  wish  me  to  be  happy." 

"  I  do,  I  do,"  answered  he  :  "  let  the  Lord  do  with  you 
and  us  as  best  pleases  him." 

I  then  asked  her,  on  what  her  present  consolations 
chiefly  depended,  in  the  prospect  of  approaching  death. 

"  Entirely,  sir,  on  my  view  of  Christ.  When  I  look  at 
myself,  many  sins,  infirmities,  and  imperfections  cloud  the 
image  of  Christ  which  I  want  to  see  in  my  own  heart. 
But  when  I  look  at  the  Saviour  himself,  he  is  altogether 
lovely  ;  there  is  not  one  spot  in  his  countenance,  nor  one 
cloud  over  all  his  perfections. 

"  I  think  of  his  coming  in  the  flesh,  and  it  reconciles 
me  to  the  sufferings  of  the  body  ;  for  he  had  them  as  well 
as  I.  I  think  of  his  temptations,  and  believe  that  he  is 
able  to  succor  me  when  I  am  tempted.  Then  I  think  of 
his  cross,  and  learn  to  bear  my  own.  I  reflect  on  his  death, 
and  long  to  die  unto  sin,  so  that  it  may  no  longer  have 
dominion  over  me.  I  sometimes  think  on  his  resurrection, 
and  trust  that  he  has  given  me  a  part  in  it,  for  I  feel  that 
my  aflections  are  set  upon  things  above.  Chiefly  I  take 
comfort  in  thinking  of  him  as  at  the  right  hand  of  the 
Father,  pleading  my  cause,  and  rendering  acceptable  even 
my  feeble  prayers,  both  for  myself,  and,  as  I  hope,  for  my 
dear  friends. 

"  These  are  the  views  which,  through  mercy,  I  have  of 
my  Saviour's  goodness  ;  and  they  have  made  me  wish  and 
strive  in  my  poor  way  to  serve  him,  to  give  myself  up  to 
him,  and  to  labor  to  do  my  duty  in  that  state  of  life  into 
which  it  has  pleased  him  to  call  me. 

"  A  thousand  times  I  should  have  fallen  and  fainted,  if 
he  had  not  uphold  me.  I  feel  that  I  am  nothing  without 
him.     He  is  all  in  all. 


THE  dairyman's  daughtek.  85 

"  Just  so  far  as  I  can  cast  my  care  upon  him,  I  find 
strength  to  do  his  will.  May  he  give  me  grace  to  trust 
him  till  the  last  moment  !  I  do  not  fear  death,  because  I 
believe  that  he  has  taken  away  its  sting.  And  O  !  what 
happiness  beyond  ! — Tell  me,  sir,  whether  you  think  I  am 
right.  I  hope  I  am  under  no  delusion.  I  dare  not  look 
for  my  hope  in  any  thing  short  of  the  entire  fulness  of 
Christ.  When  I  ask  my  own  heart  a  question,  I  am  afraid 
to  trust  it,  for  it  is  treacherous,  and  has  often  deceived 
me.  But  when  I  ask  Christ,  he  answers  me  with  pro- 
mises that  strengthen  and  refresh  me,  and  leave  me  no 
room  to  doubt  his  power  and  will  to  save.  I  am  in  his 
hands,  and  would  remain  there  ;  and  I  do  believe  that  he 
will  never  leave  nor  forsake  me,  but  will  perfect  the  thing 
that  concerns  me.  He  loved  me,  and  gave  himself  for 
me,  and  I  believe  that  his  gifts  and  callings  are  without 
repentance.  In  this  hope  I  live,  in  this  hope  I  wish  to  die.'* 

I  looked  around  me,  as  she  was  speaking,  and  thought, 
"  Surely  this  is  none  other  than  the  house  of  God,  and  the 
gate  of  heaven."  Every  thing  appeared  neat,  cleanly,  and 
interesting.  The  afternoon  had  been  rather  overcast  with 
dark  clouds  ;  but  just  now  the  setting  sun  shone  brightly 
and  somewhat  suddenly  into  the  room.  It  was  reflected 
from  three  or  four  rows  of  bright  pewter  plates  and  white 
earthen-ware,  arranged  on  shelves  against  the  wall  ;  it 
also  gave  brilliancy  to  a  few  prints  of  sacred  subjects  that 
hung  there  also,  and  served  for  monitors  of  the  birth,  bap- 
tism, crucifixion,  and  resurrection  of  Christ. 

A  large  map  of  Jerusalem,  and  an  hieroglyphic  of  "  the 

old  and  new  man,"  completed  the  decorations  on  that  side 

of  the  room.     Clean  as  was  the  whitewashed  wall,  it  was 

not  cleaner  than  the  rest  of  the  place  and  its  furniture. 

8 


86  THE  dairyman's  daughtee. 

Seldom  had  the  sun  enlightened  a  house,  where  order  and 
general  neatness  (those  sure  attendants  of  pious  poverty) 
were  more  conspicuous. 

This  gleam  of  setting  sunshine  was  emblematical  of 
the  bright  and  serene  close  of  this  young  Christian's  de- 
parting season.  One  ray  happened  to  be  reflected  from  a 
little  looking-glass  upon  her  face.  Amidst  her  pallid  and 
decaying  features  there  appeared  a  calm  resignation,  tri- 
umphant confidence,  unaffected  humility,  and  tender  anx- 
iety, which  fully  declared  the  feelings  of  her  heart. 

Some  further  affectionate  conversation,  and  a  short 
prayer,  closed  this  interview. 

As  I  rode  home  by  departing  daylight,  a  solemn  tran- 
quillity reigned  throughout  the  scene.  The  gentle  lowing 
of  cattle,  the  bleating  of  sheep  just  penned  in  their  folds, 
the  humming  of  the  insects  of  the  night,  the  distant  mur- 
mur of  the  sea,  the  last  notes  of  the  birds  of  day,  and  the 
first  warblingii  of  the  nightingale,  broke  upon  the  ear,  and 
served  rather  to  increase  than  lessen  the  peaceful  serenity 
of  the  evening,  and  its  corresponding  eJSects  on  my  own 
mind.  It  invited  and  cherished  just  such  meditations  as 
my  visit  had  already  inspired.  Natural  scenery,  when 
viewed  in  a  Christian  mirror  frequently  afibrds  very 
beautiful  illustrations  'of  divine  truths.  We  are  highly 
favored,  when  we  can  enjoy  them,  and  at  the  same  time 
draw  near  to  God  in  them. 


THE   DAIRYMAN  S    DAUGHTER. 


PART  VII. 


87 


It  is  a  pleasing  consideration,  that,  amidst  the  spiritual 
darkness  which  unhappily  prevails  in  many  parts  of  the 
land,  God  nevertheless  has  a  people.  It  not  unfrequently 
happens  that  single  individuals  are  to  be  found,  who,  though 
very  disadvantageously  situated  with  regard  to  the  ordi- 
nary means  of  grace,  have  received  truly  saving  impres- 
sions, and  through  a  blessing  on  secret  meditation,  read- 
ing, and  prayer,  are  led  to  the  closest  communion  with 
God,  and  become  eminently  devoted  Christians.  It  is  the  no 
small  error  of  too  many  professors  of  the  present  day,  to 
overlook  or  undervalue  the  instances  of  this  kind  which 
exist.  The  religious  profession  and  opinions  of  some  have 
too  much  of  mere  macliinery  in  their  composition.  If  every 
wheel,  pivot,  chain,  spring,  cog,  or  pinion,  be  not  exactly 
in  its  place,  or  move  not  precisely  according  to  a  favorite 
and  prescribed  system,  the  whole  is  rejected  as  unworthy 
of  regard.  But  happily  "  the  Lord  knoweth  them  that  are 
his  ;"  nor  is  the  impression  of  his  own  seal  wanting  to 
characterize  some,  who,  in  comparative  seclusion  from  the 
religious  world,  "  name  the  name  of  Christ,  and  depart 
from  iniquity." 

There  are  some  real  Christians  so  peculiarly  circum- 
stanced in  this  respect,  as  to  illustrate  the  Poet's  beauti- 
ful comparison, 

"  Full  many  a  gem  of  purest  ray  serene 

The  dark  unlathom'd  caves  of  ocean  bear; 

F  ill  many  a  flower  is  born  to  blush  unseen, 
And  waste  its  eweetnesd  on  tlie  desert  air." 


00  THE    DAIRYMAN'S    DAUGHTER. 

Yet  this  was  not  altogether  the  case  with  the  Dairy- 
man's daughter.  Her  religion  had  indeed  ripened  in  se- 
clusion from  the  world,  and  she  was  intimately  known  but 
to  few  ;  but  she  lived  usefully,  departed  most  happily,  and 
left  a  shining  track  behind  her.  While  I  attempt  a  faint 
delineation  of  it,  may  I  catch  its  influence,  and  become, 
through  inexpressible  mere}*,  a  follower  of  "  them,  who 
through  faith  and  patience  inherit  the  promises  !" 

From  the  time  wherein  I  visited  her,  as  described  in 
my  last  paper,  I  considered  her  end  as  fast  approaching. 
One  day  I  received  a  hasty  summons  to  inform  me  that  she 
was  dying.  It  was  brought  by  a  soldier,  whose  counte- 
nance bespoke  seriousness,  good  sense,  and  piety. 

"  I  am  sent,  sir,  by  the  father  and  mother  of  Elizabeth 

W ,  at  her  own  particular  request,  to  say,  how  much 

they  all  wish  to  see  you.  She  is  going  home,  sir,  very  fast 
indeed." 

"  Have  you  known  her  long  V 

"  About  a  month,  sir  ;  I  love  to  visit  the  sick  !  and  hear- 
ing of  her  case  from  a  person  who  lives  close  by  our  camp, 

1  went  to  see  her.  I  bless  God  that  ever  I  did  go.  Her 
conversation  has  been  very  profitable  to  me." 

"  I  rejoice,"  said  I,  "  to  see  in  you,  as  I  trust,  a  brother 
soldier.  Though  we  differ  in  our  outward  regimentals,  I 
hope  we  serve  under  the  same  spiritual  Captain.  I  will 
go  with  you." 

My  horse  was  soon  ready.  My  military  companion 
walked  by  my  side,  and  gratified  me  with  very  sensible 
and  pious  conversation.  He  related  some  remarkable  tes 
timonies  of  the  excellent  disposition  of  the  Dairyman's 
daughter,  as  they  appeared  from  recent  intercourse  which 
he  had  had  with  her. 


THE    dairyman's    DAUGHTER.  80 

"  She  is  a  bright  diamond,  sir,"  said  the  soldier, 
"and  will  soon  shine  brighter  than  any  diamond  upon 
earth.'- 

We  passed  through  lanes  and  fields,  over  hills  and  val- 
leys, by  open  and  retired  paths,  sometimes  crossing  over, 
and  sometimes  following  the  windings  of  a  little  brook, 
which  gently  murmured  by  the  road-side.  Conversation 
beguiled  the  distance,  and  shortened  the  apparent  time  of 
our  journey,  till  we  were  nearly  arrived  at  the  Dairyman's 
cottage. 

As  we  approached  it,  we  became  silent.  Thoughts  of 
death,  eternity,  and  salvation,  inspired  by  the  sight  of  a 
house  where  a  dying  believer  lay,  filled  my  own  mind,  and, 
I  doubt  not,  that  of  my  companion  also. 

No  living  object  yet  appeared,  except  the  Dairyman's 
dog,  keeping  a  kind  of  mute  watch  at  the  door  ;  for  he  did 
not,  as  formerly,  bark  at  my  approach.  He  seemed  to 
partake  so  far  of  the  feelings  appropriate  to  the  circum- 
stances of  the  family,  as  not  to  wish  to  give  'a  hasty  or 
painful  alarm.  He  came  forward  to  the  little  wicket-gate, 
then  looked  back  at  the  house-door,  as  if  conscious  there 
was  sorrow  within.  It  was  as  if  he  wanted  to  say,  "  tread 
softly  over  the  threshold,  as  you  enter  the  house  of  mourn- 
ing ;  for  my  master's  heart  is  full  of  grief." 

The  soldier  took  my  horse  and  tied  it  up  in  a  shed.  A 
solemn  serenity  appeared  to  surround  the  whole  place  :  it 
was  only  interrupted  by  the  breezes  passing  through  the 
large  elm-trees,  which  stood  near  the  house,  and  which 
my  imagination  indulged  itself  in  thinking  were  plaintive 
sighs  of  sorrow.  I  gently  opened  the  door  ;  no  one  ap- 
peared, and  all  was  still  silent.  The  soldier  followed  ;  we 
came  to  the  foot  of  the  stairs. 
8* 


90  THE    DAIRYMA.n's    DAUGHTER. 

"  They  are  come,"  said  a  voice,  which  I  knew  to  be  the 
father's  ;  "  they  are  come." 

He  appeared  at  the  top  •  I  gave  him  my  hand  and  said 
nothing.  On  entering-  the  room  above,  I  saw  the  aged 
mother  and  her  son  supporting  the  much-loved  daughter  and 
sister  :  the  son's  wife  sat  weeping  in  a  window-seat,  with 
a  child  on  her  lap  ;  two  or  three  persons  attended  in  the 
room  to  discharge  any  office  w^hich  friendship  or  necessity 
might  require. 

I  sat  down  by  the  bedside.  The  mother  could  not 
weep,  but  now  and  then  sighed  deeply,  as  she  alternately 
looked  at  Elizabeth  and  at  me.  The  big  tear  rolled  down 
the  brother's  cheek,  and  testified  an  affectionate  regard. 
The  good  old  man  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  leaning 
upon  the  post,  and  unable  to  take  his  eyes  off  the  child 
from  whom  he  was  so  soon  to  part. 

Elizabeth's  eyes  were  closed,  and  as  yet  she  perceived 
me  not.  But  over  the  face,  though  pale,  sunk,  and  hol- 
low, the  peace  of  God,  which  passeth  all  understanding, 
had  cast  a  triumphant  calm. 

The  soldier,  after  a  short  pause,  silently  reached  out  his 
Bible  towards  me,  pointing  with  his  finger  at  1  Cor.  xv. 
55,  56,  57.  I  then  broke  silence  by  reading  the  passage, 
"  O  death,  where  is  thy  sting  1  O  grave,  w^here  is  thy 
victory  1  the  sting  of  death  is  sin,  and  the  strength  of  sin 
is  the  law.  But  thanks  be  to  God  which  giveth  us  the 
victory  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ." 

At  the  sound  of  these  w^ords  her  eyes  opened,  and  some- 
thinglike a  ray  of  divine  light  beamed  on  her  countenance,  as 
she  said,  "Victory,  victory !  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ" 

She  relapsed  again,  taking  no  further  notice  of  any  one 
present 


THE    dairyman's    DAUGHTER.  91 

"  God  be  praised  for  the  triumph  of  faith  !"  said  I. 

"  Amen  !"  replied  the  soldier. 

The  Dairyman's  uplifted  eye  showed  that  the  Amen 
u-as  in  his  heart,  though  his  tongue  failed  to  utter  it. 

A  short  struggling  for  breath  took  place  in  the  dying 
young  woman,  which  was  soon  over  ;  and  then  I  said  to 
her, 

"  My  dear  friend,  do  you  not  feel  that  you  are  sup- 
ported ]" 

"  The  Lord  deals  very  gently  with  me,"  she  replied. 

"Are  not  his  promises  now  very  precious  to  you]" 

"They  are  all  yea  and  amen  in  Christ  Jesus." 

"  Are  you  in  much  bodily  pain  "J" 

"  So  little,  that  I  almost  forget  it." 

"  How  good  the  Lord  is  !" 

"  And  how  unworthy  am  I !" 

"  You  are  going  to  see  him  as  he  is." 

"  I  think 1  hope 1  believe  that  I  am." 

She  again  fell  into  a  short  slumber. 

Looking  at  her  mother,  I  said,  "  What  a  mercy  to  have 
a  child  so  near  heaven  as  yours  is  !" 

"  And  what  a  mercy,"  she  replied,  in  broken  accents, 
"  if  her  poor  old  mother  might  but  follow  her  there  !  But, 
sir,  it  is  so  hard  to  part  !" 

"  I  hope  through  grace  by  faith  you  will  soon  meet,  to 
part  no  more  :  it  will  be  but  a  little  while." 

"  Sir,"  said  the  Dairyman,  "  that  thought  supports  me, 
and  the  Lord's  goodness  'makes  me  feel  more  reconciled 
than  I  was." 

"  Father mother," said  the  reviving  daughter, 

••  he  is  good  to  me trust  him,  praise  him  evermore." 

' "  Sir,"  added  she,  in  a  faint  voice,  "  I  want  to  thank  you 


92  Th£    DAIRY3IAN'S    DAUGHTER. 

for  3^our  kindness  to  me 1  want  to  ask  a  favor ; 

you  buried  ray  sister will  you  do  the  same  for  me  1" 

"  All  shall  be  as  you  wish,  if  God  permit,"  I  replied. 

"  Thank  you,  sir,  thank  you  ; 1  have  another  favor 

lo  ask When  I  am  gone,  remember  my  father  and  mo- 
ther.    They  are  old,  but  I  hope  the  good  work  is  begun 

in  their  souls My  prayers  are  heard Pray  come  and 

see  them — I  cannot  speak  much,  but  I  want  to  speak  for 
their  sakes Sir,  remember  them." 

The  aged  parents  now  sighed  and  sobbed  aloud,  utter- 
ing broken  sentences,  and  gained  some  relief  by  such  an 
expression  of  their  feelings. 

At  length  I  said  to  Elizabeth,  "  Do  you  experience  any 
doubts  or  temptations  on  the  subject  of  your  eternal 
safety  ?" 

"  No,  sir  ;  the  Lord  deals  very  gently  with  me,  and 
gives  me  peace." 

"  What  are  your  views  of  the  dark  valley  of  death,  now 
that  you  are  passing  through  it  ]" 

"  It  is  not  dark." 


Why 


so 


1" 


"  My  Lord  is  there,  and  he  is  my  light  and  my  salvation." 
"  Have  you  any  fears  of  more  bodily  suffering  ]" 
"  The  Lord  deals  so  gently  with  me  ;  I  can  trust  him." 
Something  of  a  convulsion  came  on.  When  it  was  past, 
she  said  again  and  again, 

"  The   Lord  deals  very  gently  with  me.     Lord,  I  am 

thine,  save  me Blessed  Jesus precious  Saviour 

His  blood  cleanseth  from  all  sin Who  shall  separate  ? 

His  name    is  Wonderful Thanks  be  to  God 

He  giveth  us    the  victory, 1,  even  I,  am   saved 

O  grace,  mercy,  and  wonder Lord,  receive  my  spirit ! 


THE   DAIRYMAN  S   DAUGHTER.  VO 

Dear  sir, dear  father,  mother,  friends,  I  am  going 

but  all  is  well,  well,  well " 

She  relapsed  again — We  knelt  down  to  prayer — The 
Lord  was  in  the  midst  of  us,  and  blessed  us. 

She  did  not  again  revive  while  I  remained,  nor  ever 
speak  any  more  words  which  could  be  understood.  She 
slumbered  for  about  ten  hours,  and  at  last  sweetly  fell 
asleep  in  the  arms  of  that  Lord,  who  had  dealt  so  gently 
with  her. 

I  left  the  house  an  hour  after  she  had  ceased  to  speak. 
I  pressed  her  hand  as  I  was  taking  leave,  and  said,  "  Christ 
is  the  resurrection  and  the  life."  She  gently  returned  the 
pressure,  but  could  neither  open  her  eyes,  nor  utter  a  reply. 

I  never  had  witnessed  a  scene  so  impressive  as  this  be- 
fore. It  completely  filled  my  imagination  as  I  returned 
home. 

"  Farewell,"  thought  I,  "  dear  friend,  till  the  morning 
of  an  eternal  day  shall  renew  our  personal  intercourse. 
Thou  wast  a  brand  plucked  from  the  burning,  that  thou 
mightest  become  a  star  shining  in  the  firmament  of  glory. 
I  have  seen  thy  light  and  thy  good  works,  and  will  there- 
fore glorify  our  Father  which  is  in  heaven.  I  have  seen, 
in  thy  example,  what  it  is  to  be  a  sinner  freely  saved  by 
grace.  I  have  learned  from  thee,  as  in  a  living  mirror, 
who  it  is  that  begins,  continues,  and  ends  the  work  of 
faith  and  love.  Jesus  is  all  in  all :  he  will  and  shall  be 
glorified.  He  won  the  crown,  and  alone  deserves  to  wear 
it.  May  no  one  attempt  to  rob  him  of  his  glory  !  He 
saves,  and  saves  to  the  uttermost.  Farewell,  dear  sister 
in  the  Lord.  Thy  flesh  and  thy  heart  may  fail  ;  but  God 
is  the  strength  of  tl  y  heart,  and  shall  be  thy  portion 
for  ever. 


94  THE  dairyman's  daughter. 


PART  YIII. 


Who  can  conceive  or  estimate  the  nature  of  that  change 
which  the  soul  of  a  believer  must  experience  at  the  mo- 
ment when,  quitting-  its  tabernacle  of  clay,  it  suddenly 
enters  into  the  presence  of  God  ]  If,  even  while  "  we  see 
through  a  glass  darkly,"  the  views  of  divine  love  and  wis- 
dom are  so  delightful  to  the  eye  of  faith  ;  what  must  be 
the  glorious  vision  of  God,  when  seen  face  to  face  ?  If  it 
be  so  valued  a  privilege  here  on  earth  to  enjoy  the  com- 
munion of  saints,  and  to  take  sweet  counsel  together  with 
our  fellow-travellers  towards  the  heavenly  kingdom  ;  what 
shall  we  see  and  know  when  we  finally  "  come  unto  mount 
Zion,  and  unto  the  city  of  the  living  God,  the  heavenly 
Jerusalem,  and  to  the  innumerable  company  of  angels,  to 
the  general  assembly  and  church  of  the  first-born  which 
are  v/ritten  in  heaven,  and  to  God  the  Judge  of  all,  and  to 
the  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect,  and  to  Jesus  the 
Mediator  of  the  new  covenant  ]" 

If,  during  the  sighs  and  tears  of  a  mortal  pilgrimage,  the 
consolations  of  the  Spirit  are  so  precious,  and  the  hope 
full  of  immortality  is  so  animating  to  the  soul ;  what  heart 
can  conceive,  or  what  tongue  utter  its  superior  joys,  when 
arrived  at  that  state,  where  sighing  and  sorrow  flee  away, 
and  the  tears  shall  be  wiped  from  every  eye  ? 

Such  ideas  were  powerfully  associated  together  in  my 
imagination,  as  I  travelled  onward  to  the  house,  where,  in 
solemn  preparation  for  the  grave,  lay  the  remains  of  the 
Dairyman's  daughter. 

She  had  breathed  her  last  shortly  after  the  visit  related 


THE   DAIRYMAN  S    DAUGHTER. 


95 


in  my  former  account.  Permission  was  obtained,  as  before 
in  the  case  of  her  sister,  that  I  should  perform  the  funeral 
service.  Many  pleasing  yet  melancholy  thoughts  were 
connected  with  the  fulfilment  of  this  task.  I  retraced  the 
numerous  and  important  conversations  which  I  had  held 
with  her.  But  these  could  now  no  longer  be  maintained 
on  earth.  I  reflected  on  the  interesting  and  improving  na- 
ture of  Christian  friendships,  whether  formed  in  palaces 
or  in  cottages  ;  and  felt  thankful  that  I  had  so  long  en- 
joyed that  privilege  with  the  subject  of  this  memorial.  I 
then  indulged  a  selfish  sigh  for  a  moment,  on  thinking  that 
I  could  no  longer  hear  the  great  truths  of  Christianity  ut- 
tered by  one  who  had  drunk  so  deep  of  the  waters  of  the 
river  of  life.  But  the  rising  murmur  was  checked  by  the 
animating  thought ;  "  She  is  gone  to  eternal  rest — could 
I  wish  her  back  again  in  this  vale  of  tears  ?" 

At  that  moment,  the  first  sound  of  a  tolling  bell  struck 
my  ear.  It  proceeded  from  a  village  church  in  the  valley 
directly  beneath  the  ridge  of  a  high  hill,  over  which  I  had 
taken  my  way. — It  was  Elizabeth's  funeral  knell. 

The  sound  was  solemn  ;  and  in  ascending  to  the  ele- 
vated spot  over  which  I  rode,  it  acquired  a  peculiar  tone 
and  character.  Tolling  at  slow  and  regular  intervals,  (as 
was  customary  for  a  considerable  time  previous  to  the 
hour  of  burial,)  the  bell,  as  it  were,  proclaimed  the  blessed- 
ness of  the  dead  who  die  in  the  Lord,  and  also  the  neces- 
sity of  the  living  pondering  these  things,  and  laying  them 
to  heart.  It  seemed  to  say,  "  Hear  my  warning  voice,  thou 
son  of  man.  There  is  but  a  step  between  thee  and  death. 
Arise,  prepare  thine  house,  for  thou  shalt  die,  and  not 
live." 

The  scenery  was  in  unison  with  that  tranquil  frame  of 


96  THE  dairyman's  daughtee. 

mind  which  is  most  suitable  for  holy  meditation.  A  rich 
and  fruitful  valley  lay  immediately  beneath  ;  it  was  adorn- 
ed with  cornfields  and  pastures,  through  which  a  small 
river  winded  in  a  variety  of  directions,  and  many  herds 
grazed  upon  its  banks.  A  fine  range  of  opposite  hills, 
covered  with  grazing  flocks,  terminated  with  a  bo.  d  sweep 
into  the  ocean,  whose  blue  waves  appeared  at  a  distance 
beyond.  Several  villages,  hamlets,  and  churches,  were 
scattered  in  the  valley.  The  noble  mansions  of  the  rich, 
and  the  lowly  cottages  of  the  poor,  added  their  respective 
features  to  the  landscape.  The  air  was  mild,  and  the  de- 
clining sun  occasioned  a  beautiful  interchange  of  light  and 
shade  upon  the  sides  of  the  hills.  In  the  midst  of  this 
scene,  the  chief  sound  that  arrested  attention  was  the  bell 
tolling  for  the  funeral  of  the  Dairyman's  daughter. 

Do  any  of  my  readers  inquire  why  I  describe  so  mi- 
nutely the  circumstances  of  prospect  and  scenery  which 
may  be  connected  with  the  incidents  I  relate  ?  My  reply 
is,  that  the  God  of  redemption  is  the  God  of  creation  like- 
wise ;  and  that  we  are  taug?it  in  every  part  of  the  Word 
of  God  to  unite  the  admiration  of  the  beauties  and  wonders 
of  nature  to  every  other  motive  for  devotion.  When  Da- 
vid considered  the  heavens,  the  work  of  God's  fingers,  the 
moon  and  the  stars,  which  he  has  ordained,  he  was  thereby 
led  to  the  deepest  humiliation  of  heart  before  his  Maker. 
And  when  he  viewed  the  sheep  and  the  oxen  and  the 
beasts  of  the  field,  the  fowl  of  the  air  and  the  fish  of  the 
sea,  he  was  constrained  to  cry  out,  "  O  Lord,  our  Lord ! 
how  excellent  is  thy  name  in  all  the  earth  !" 

I  am  the  Poor  Man's  Friend,  and  wish  more  especially 
that  every  poor  laboring  man  should  know  how  to  connect 
the  goodness  of  God  in  creation  and  providence  with  the 


THE   dairyman's   DAUGHTER.  97 

unsearchable  riches  of  his  grace  in  the  salvat.on  of  a  sin- 
ner. And  where  can  he  learn  this  lesson  more  instruc- 
tively than  in  looking  around  the  fields  where  his  labor  ia 
appointed,  and  there  tracing  the  handy- work  of  God  in  all 
that  he  beholds  ]  Such  meditations  have  often  afforded 
me  both  profit  and  pleasure,  and  I  wish  my  readers  to 
share  them  with  me. 

The  Dairyman's  cottage  was  rather  more  than  a  mile 
distant  from  the  church.  A  lane,  quite  overshaded  with 
trees  and  high  hedges,  led  from  the  foot  of  the  hill  to  his 
dwelling.  It  was  impossible  at  that  time  to  overlook  the 
suitable  gloom  of  such  an  approach  to  the  house  of 
mourning. 

I  found,  on  my  entrance,  that  several  Christian  friends, 
from  different  parts  of  the  neighborhood,  had  assembled 
together,  to  pay  their  last  tribute  of  esteem  and  regard  to 
the  memory  of  the  Dairyman's  daughter.  Several  of  them 
had  first  become  acquainted  with  her  during  the  latter 
stage  of  her  illness  :  some  few  had  maintained  an  affec- 
tionate intercourse  with  her  for  a  longer  period.  But  all 
seemed  anxious  to  manifest  their  respect  for  one  who  was 
endeared  to  them  by  such  striking  testimonies  of  true 
Christianity. 

I  was  requested  to  go  into  the  chamber  where  the  rela- 
tives and  a  few  other  friends  i^ere  gone  to  take  a  last  look 
at  the  remains  of  Elizabeth. 

It  is  not  easy  to  describe  the  sensation  which  the  mind 
experiences  on  the  first  sight  of  a  dead  countenance, 
which,  when  living,  was  loved  and  esteemed  for  the  sake 
of  that  soul  which  used  to  give  it  animation.  A  deep  and 
awful  view  of  the  separation  that  has  taken  place  between 
the  soul  and  body  of  the  deceased,  since  we  last  beheld 
9 


98  THE  dairyman's  daughtek. 

them,  occupies  the  feelings  ;  our  friend  seems  to  be  both 
near,  and  yet  far  off.  The  most  interesting  and  valuable 
part  is  fled  away  ;  what  remains  is  but  the  earthly  perish- 
ing habitation,  no  longer  occupied  by  its  tenant.  Yet  the 
features  present  the  accustomed  association  of  friendly  in- 
tercourse. For  one  moment,  we  could  think  them  asleep. 
The  next  reminds  us  that  the  blood  circulates  no  more  ; 
Ihe  eye  has  lost  its  power  of  seeing,  the  ear  of  hearing, 
the  heart  of  throbbing,  and  the  limbs  of  moving.  Quick- 
ly, a  thought  of  glory  breaks  in  upon  the  mind,  and  we 
imagine  the  dear  departed  soul  to  be  arrived  at  its  long- 
wished-for  rest.  It  is  surrounded  by  cherubim  and 
seraphim,  and  sings  the  song  of  Moses  and  the  Lamb 
on  Mount  Zion.  Amid  the  solemn  stillness  of  the  cham- 
ber of  death,  imagination  hears  heavenly  hymns  chanted 
by  the  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect.  In  another  mo- 
ment, the  livid  lips  and  sunken  eye  of  the  clay-cold  corpse 
recall  our  thoughts  to  earth,  and  to  ourselves  again.  And 
while  we  think  of  mortality,  sin,  death,  and  the  grave,  we 
feel  the  prayer  rise  in  our  bosom,  "  O  let  me  die  the  death 
of  the  righteous,  and  let  my  last  end  be  like  his  !" 

If  there  be  a  moment  when  Christ  and  salvation,  death, 
judgment,  heaven,  and  hell,  appear  more  than  ever  to  be 
momentous  subjects  of  meditation,  it  is  that  which  brings 
lis  to  the  side  of  a  coffin  containing  the  body  of  a  departed 
believer. 

Elizabeth's  features  were  altered,  but  much  of  her  like- 
ness remained.  Her  father  and  mother  sat  at  the  head, 
her  brother  at  the  foot,  of  the  coffin.  The  father  silently 
and  alternately  looked  upon  his  dead  child,  and  then  lifted 
up  his  eyes  to  heaven.  A  struggle  for  resignation  to  the 
will  of  God  was  manifest  in  his  countenance  ;  while  the 


THE   dairyman's   DAUGHTER.  99 

tears,  rolling  down  his  aged  cheeks,  at  the  same  time  de- 
clared his  grief  and  affection.  The  poor  mother  cried  and 
sobbed  aloud,  and  appeared  to  be  much  overcome  by  the 
shock  of  separation  from  a  daughter  so  justly  dear  to  her. 
The  weakness  and  infirmity  of  old  age  added  a  character 
to  her  sorrow,  which  called  for  much  tenderness  and  com- 
passion. 

A  remarkably  decent-looking  woman,  who  had  the  man- 
agement of  the  few  simple  though  solemn  ceremonies 
which  the  case  required,  advanced  towards  rae,  saying, 

"  Sir,  this  is  rather  a  sight  of  joy  than  of  sorrow.  Our 
dear  friend,  Elizabeth,  finds  it  to  be  so,  I  have  no  doubt. 
She  is  beyond  all  sorrow  :  do  you  not  think  she  is,  sir  ?" 

"  After  what  I  have  known,  and  seen,  and  heard,"  I 
replied,  "  I  feel  the  fullest  assurance,  that  while  her  body 
remains  here,  her  soul  is  with  her  Saviour  in  Paradise. 
She  loved  him  ^ere,  and  there  she  enjoys  the  pleasures 
which  are  at  his  right  hand  for  evermore." 

"  Mercy,  mercy  upon  a  poor  old  creature  almost  broken 
down  with  age  and  grief ! — What  shall  I  do  ? — Betsy's 
gone.  My  daughter's  dead. — O  my  child  !  I  shall  never 
see  thee  more. — God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner  !"  sobbed 
out  the  poor  mother. 

"  That  last  prayer,  my  dear  good  woman,"  said  I,  "  will 
bring  you  and  your  child  together  again.  It  is  a  cry  that 
has  brought  thousands  to  glory.  It  brought  your  daugh- 
ter there,  and  1  hope  it  will  bring  you  thither  likewise. 
God  will  in  no  wise  cast  out  any  that  come  to  him." 

"  My  dear,"  said  the  Dairyman,  breaking  the  long  silence 
he  had  maintained,  "  let  us  trust  God  with  our  child  ;  and 
let  us  trust  him  with  our  own  selves.  The  Lord  gave, 
and  the  Lord  hath  taken  away  ;  blessed  be  the  name  of 


100  THE    dairyman's   DAUGHTER. 

the  Lord  !     We  are  old,  and  can  have  but  a  little  further 

to  travel  in  our  journey,  and  then "  he  could  say  no 

more. 

The  soldier,  mentioned  in  my  last  paper,  reached  a 
Bible  into  my  hand,  and  said,  "  Perhaps,  sir,  you  would 
not  object  to  reading  a  chapter  before  we  go  to  the 
church]" 

I  did  so  ;  it  was  the  fourteenth  of  the  book  of  Job.  A 
sweet  tranquillity  prevailed  while  I  read  it.  Each  minute 
that  was  spent  in  this  funeral  chamber  seemed  to  be  val- 
uable. I  made  a  few  observations  on  the  chapter,  and 
connected  them  with  the  case  of  our  departed  sister. 

"  I  am  but  a  poor  soldier,"  said  our  military  friend,  "  and 
have  nothing  of  this  world's  goods  beyond  my  daily  sub- 
sistence ;  but  I  would  not  exchange  my  hope  of  salvation 
in  the  next  world,  for  all  that  this  world  could  bestow 
without  it.  What  is  wealth  without  grace  "?  Blessed  be 
God  !  as  I  march  about  from  one  quarters  to  another,  I 
still  find  the  Lord  wherever  I  go  ;  and  thanks  be  to  his 
holy  name,  he  is  here  to-day  in  the  midst  of  this  company 
of  the  living  and  the  dead.  I  feel  that  it  is  good  to  be  here." 

Some  other  persons  present  began  to  take  a  part  in  our 
conversation,  in  the  course  of  which  the  life  and  expe- 
rience of  the  Dairyman's  daughter  were  brought  forward 
in  a  very  interesting  manner.  Each  friend  had  something 
to  relate  in  testimony  of  her  gracious  disposition.  A 
young  woman  under  twenty,  who  had  hitherto  been  a  very 
light  and  trifling  character,  appeared  to  be  remarkably  im- 
pressed by  the  conversation  of  that  day  ;  and  I  have  since 
had  ground  to  believe  that  divine  grace  then  began  to  in- 
fluence her  in  the  choice  of  that  better  part,  which  shall 
not  be  taken  from  her. 


THE    DAIEYMAN's    DAUGHTER.  101 

What  a  contrast  does  such  a  scene  as  this  exhibit,  when 
compared  with  the  dull,  formal,  unedifying-,  and  often  in- 
decent manner,  in  which  funeral  parties  assemble  in  the 
house  of  death  ! 

As  we  conversed,  the  parents  revived.  Our  subject  of 
discourse  was  delightful  to  their  hearts.  Their  child 
seemed  almost  to  be  alive  again,  while  we  talked  of  her. 
Tearful  smiles  often  brightened  their  countenances,  as 
they  heard  the  voice  of  friendship  uttering  their  daugh- 
ter's praises  ;  or  rather  the  praises  of  Him,  who  had  made 
her  a  vessel  of  mercy,  and  an  instrument  of  spiritual  good 
to  her  family. 

The  time  for  departing  to  the  church  was  now  at  hand. 

I  went  to  take  ray  last  look  at  the  deceased. 

There  was  much  written  on  her  countenance.  She 
had  evidently  died  with  a  smile.  It  still  remained,  and 
spoke  the  tranquillity  of  her  departed  soul.  According  to 
the  custom  of  the  country,  she  was  decorated  with  leaves 
and  flowers  in  the  coffin  :  she  seemed  as  a  bride  gone 
forth  to  meet  the  bridegroom.  These,  indeed,  were  fading 
flowers,  but  they  reminded  me  of  that  paradise  whose 
flowers  are  immortal,  and  where  her  never-dying  soul  is 
at  rest. 

I  remembered  the  last  words  which  I  had  heard  her 
speak,  and  was  instantly  struck  with  the  happy  thought, 
that  "  death  was  indeed  swallowed  up  in  victory." 

As  I  slowly  retired,  I  said,  inwardly,  "  Peace,  my  Iion- 
ored  sister,  be  to  thy  memory  and  to  my  soul,  till  we  meet 
in  a  better  world." 

In  a  little  time  the  procession  formed  :  it  was  rendered 
the  more  interesting  by  the  consideration  of  so  many  that 
followed  the  cofSn  being  persons  of  a  devoted  and  spiritual 
9* 


108  THE    dairyman's    DAUGHTEll. 

character.  The  distance  was  rather  more  than  a  mile.  I 
resolved  to  continue  with  and  go  before  them,  as  they 
moved  slowly  onward. 

Immediately  after  the  body  came  the  venerable  father 
and  mother,*  bending  with  age,  and  weeping  through  much 
affliction  of  heart  Their  appearance  was  calculated  to 
excite  every  emotion  of  pity,  love,  and  esteem.  The  other 
relatives  followed  them  in  order,  and  the  several  attendant 
friends  took  their  places  behind. 

After  we  had  advanced  about  a  hundred  yards,  my  med- 
itation was  unexpectedly  and  most  agreeably  interrupted 
by  the  friends  who  attended  beginning  to  sing  a  funeral 
psalm.  Nothing  could  be  more  sweet  or  solemn.  The 
well-known  effect  of  the  open  air  in  softening  and  blend- 
ing the  sounds  of  music,  was  here  peculiarly  felt.  The 
road  through  which  we  passed  was  beautiful  and  roman- 
tic. It  lay  at  the  foot  of  a  hill,  which  occasionally  re- 
echoed the  voices  of  the  singers,  and  seemed  to  give  faint 
replies  to  the  notes  of  the  mourners.  The  funeral  knell 
was  distinctly  heard  from  the  church  tower,  and  greatly 
increased  the  effect  which  this  simple  and  becoming  ser- 
vice produced. 

We  went  by  several  cottages  :  a  respectful  attention 
was  universally  observed  as  we  passed  :  and  the  counte- 
nances of  many  proclaimed  their  regard  for  the  departed 
young  woman.      The    singing  was  regularly  continued, 

*  The  mother  died  not  long  after  her  daughter ;  and  1  have  good  reason  to 
believe  that  God  was  merciful  to  her,  and  took  her  to  himself. 

An  interesting  account  of  a  visit  recently  made  to  tlie  Dairj-man's  cottage, 
appeared  in  the  Christian  Guardian,  for  October,  1813.— A  still  more  recent 
visit  to  the  good  old  Dairyman  (who  still  lives,  at  the  age  of  62)  has  been 
made  by  the  author  of  tliis  narrative.     {June,  1814.) 

The  good  old  Dairyman  died  in  1816.— His  end  was  eminently  Cliristian. 


THE   dairyman's    DAUGHTER.  103 

with  occasional  intervals  of  about  five  minutes,  during  our 
whole  progress. 

I  cannot  describe  the  state  of  my  own  mind  as  peculiarly 
connected  with  this  solemn  singing.  I  was  reminded  of 
elder  times  and  ancient  piety.  I  wished  the  practice 
more  frequent.  It  seems  well  calculated  to  excite  and 
cherish  devotion  and  religious  affections. 

Music,  when  judiciously  brought  into  the  service  of  re- 
ligion, is  one  of  the  most  delightful,  and  not  least  effica- 
cious means  of  grace.  I  pretend  not  too  minutely  to 
conjecture  as  to  the  actual  nature  of  those  pleasures  which, 
after  the  resurrection,  the  reunited  body  and  soul  will 
enjoy  in  heaven ;  but  I  can  hardly  persuade  myself  that 
melody  and  harmony  will  be  wanting,  when  even  the  sense 
of  hearing  shall  itself  be  glorified. 

We  at  length  arrived  at  the  church.  Looking  upward, 
as  I  drew  near  the  church,  I  observed  a  dial  on  the  wall. 
The  sun's  declining  rays  directed  the  shadow  to  the  even- 
ing hour.  As  I  passed  underneath  this  simple  but  solemn 
monitor,  I  was  reminded  of  the  lapse  of  time,  the  uncer- 
tainty of  life,  and  sure  approach  of  eternity.  I  thought 
with  David,  "  We  are  strangers  before  thee,  and  sojourn- 
ers, as  were  all  our  fathers  ;  our  days  on  the  earth  are  as 
a  shadow,  and  there  is  none  abiding."  "  Lord,  so  teach 
us  to  number  our  days,  that  we  may  apply  our  hearts  unto 
wisdom." 

The  service  was  heard  with  deep  and  aflectionate  atten- 
tion. When  we  came  to  the  grave,  the  hymn  which 
Elizabeth  had  selected  was  sung.  All  was  devout,  simple, 
animating.  We  committed  our  dear  sister's  body  to  the 
earth,  in  full  hope  of  a  joyful  resurrection  from  the  dead. 

Thus  was  the  veil  of  separation  drawn  for  a  season. 


104  THE   dairyman's    DAUGHTER. 

She  IS  departed  and  no  more  seen.  But  she  will  be  seen 
on  the  right  hand  of  her  Redeemer  at  the  last  day ;  and 
will  again  appear  to  his  glory,  a  miracle  of  grace  and  mon- 
ument of  mercy. 

My  reader,  rich  or  poor,  shall  you  and  I  appear  there 
likewise  ?  Are  we  "  clothed  with  humility,"  and  arrayed 
in  the  wedding  garment  of  a  Redeemer's  righteousness? 
Are  we  turned  from  idols  to  serve  the  living  God  ?  Are 
we  sensible  of  our  own  emptiness,  and  therefore  flying  to 
a  Saviour's  fulness  to  obtain  grace  and  strength  ?  Do  we 
indeed  live  in  Christ,  and  on  him,  and  by  him,  and  with 
him  ]  Is  he  our  all  in  all  ]  Are  we  "  lost  and  found  ]" 
"dead  and  alive  again?" 

My  poor  reader,  the  Dairyman's  daughter  was  a  poor 
girl,  and  the  child  of  a  poor  man.  Herein  thou  resemblest 
her  :  but  dost  thou  resemble  her,  as  she  resembled  Christ"? 
Art  thou  made  rich  by  faith  1  Hast  thou  a  crown  laid  up 
for  thee  ?  Is  thine  heart  set  upon  heavenly  riches  ?  If 
not,  read  this  story  once  more,  and  then  pray  earnestly  for 
like  precious  faith. 

But  if,  through  grace,  thou  dost  love  and  serve  the  Re 
deemer  that  saved  the  Dairyman's  daughter,  grace,  peace, 
and  mercy  be  with  thee  1  The  lines  are  fallen  unto  thee 
in  pleasant  places  :  thou  hast  a  goodly  heritage.  Press 
forward  in  duty,  and  wait  upon  the  Lord,  possessing  thy 
soul  in  holy  patience.  Thou  hast  just  been  with  me  to  the 
grave  of  a  departed  believer.  Now  "  go  thy  way,  till  the 
end  be  ;  for  thou  shalt  rest,  and  stand  in  thy  lot  at  the 
end  of  the  days." 


APPENDIX. 


The  first  two  letters  were  addressed  by  the  Dairyman's 
daughter  to  her  father.  I  of  course  omit  those  passages 
which  are  strictly  personal  and  private. 


LETTER  I. 

TO  MR.  JOSEPH  WALLBRIDGE. 

Southampton,  Feb.  23,  1797 

Mt  dear  and  honored  Father, 

***** 

And  now,  my  dear  father,  I  do  not  know  what  to  say 
to  change  the  scene.  I  suppose  you  were  a  little  alarmed 
the  other  day,  when  the  fleet  of  colliers  came  in,  and  they 
were  taken  for  French.  It  was  reported  here  that  they 
were  landed  at  several  places  ;  and  we  should  have  soon 
been  over  in  the  island  for  shelter  from  them  :  as  if  by 
that  means  we  could  "  flee  from  the  wrath  to  come,"  or 
stay  the  hand  of  an  almighty  and  justly  avenging  God, 
who,  for  the  sins  of  mankind,  has  sent  his  judgments 
abroad  in  the  earth.     And  even  now  we  are  ready  to  say 


106  THE    DAIKYMAN's    DAUGHTER. 

to  that  God  who  hath  so  long  withheld  the  sword  of  ven- 
geance from  destroying  us,  and  still  extends  his  everlasting 
arms  of  mercy  to  save  us — "Depart  from  us" — for  we 
desire  not  the  knowledge  of  him.  But  I  hope,  my  dear 
father,  that  the  Lord  will  have  mercy  on  us,  and  bring  us 
out  of  that  gross  dark'.iess  into  his  marvellous  light,  and 
set  our  feet  on  that  rock  that  is  higher  than  we  are.  But 
we  are  informed  by  the  word  of  God,  that  if  we  would 
have  all  these  blessings  bestowed  on  us,  we  must  fix  all 
our  hopes  and  our  faith  on  the  blessed  Lamb  of  God  that 
was  slain  to  redeem  the  fallen  children  of  Adam.  For 
"as  in  Adam  all  died,  so  shall  all"  true  believers  "in 
Christ  be  made  alive"  to  God  :  and  then,  my  dear  father, 
we  may  say, 

"  Prisoners  of  hope,  lift  up  your  heads, 
Tlie  (lay  of  liborty  draws  near ; 
Jesus,  who  on  the  serpent  treads, 
Shall  soon  in  your  behalf  appear: 
The  Lord  will  to  Ills  temple  come. 
Prepare  your  Jicarts  to  make  him  room." 

My  dear  father,  I  hope  that  God  will  not  suffer  sickness 
or  death  ever  to  surprise  us  unawares,  or  find  us  in  a  state 
unprepared. 

*  *  *  *  *  * 

Please  to  give  my  duty  to  my  dear  and  tender  mother, 
and  accept  the  same  yourself,  and  love  to  dear  brothers 
and  sisters  ;  and  may  the  blessed  Spirit  of  God  be  very 
powerful  in  all  your  hearts  to  root  out  every  evil. 


THE   dairyman's    DAUGHTER.  107 

LETTER  II. 

Southampton,  April  11,  1797. 
My  DEAR  Father, 

I  have  been  silent  long:er  than  I  should,  had  my  dear 
sister  written  before  ;  but,  as  I  know  all  things  are  guided 
and  governed  by  Him  whom  my  soul  loveth,  I  wait  patiently 
his  appointed  time.  O,  my  dear  father,  it  is  good  to  trust  in 
him,  to  call  upon  him,  to  honor  his  holy  name.  O,  if  you 
have  not  tasted  how  good  and  gracious  the  Lord  is,  then 
turn  and  seek  him  while  he  may  be  found.  None  ever 
sought  his  glorious  face  in  vain ;  and  those  "  that  come 
unto  me  (saith  the  dear  Lamb  of  God)  I  will  in  no  wise 
cast  out."  No :  his  tender  love,  pity,  and  compassion 
never  fail  to  poor  sinners.  No :  though  my  dear  mother 
and  father  have  lived  to  near  the  time  that  my  God  hath 
said  shall  be  the  age  of  man ;  and  ye  have  still  been  sin- 
ning and  grieving,  and  hiding,  as  it  were,  your  faces  from 
that  God  who  is  still  pursuing  you  with  his  love  and  mercy, 
yea,  even  the  blessed  Jesus,  who  is  still  making  interces- 
sion for  sinners  at  his  Father's  right  hand.     And 

"  When  justice  bared  the  sword 

To  cut  the  fig-tree  down, 
The  pity  of  my  I^ord 

Cried,  let  it  still  alone: 
The  Father  mild,  inclined  his  ear, 
And  spares  us  yet  another  year." 

But  remember,  my  dear  friends,  his  blessed  words  : 
"My  Spirit  shall  not  always  strive  with  man :"  and,  "ex- 


108  THE   dairyman's   DAUGHTER. 

cept  you  are  born  again,  ye  cannot  inherit  the  kingdom  of 
heaven;''  and  if  you  are  not  washed  in  the  precious  blood 
of  that  dear  Lamb  of  God,  you  can  have  no  part  with  him  ; 
and  if  his  Spirit  does  not  "bear  witness  with  your  spirit" 
that  your  are  born  of  God,  you  are  still  in  your  sins,  and 
strangers  to  the  blood  that  bought  you  on  the  tree.  Oh  ! 
my  daily  prayer  to  God  is,  that  he  will  "  turn  you,  and  so 
shall  you  be  turned."  Oh !  the  dear  Redeemer  still  waits 
to  be  gracious  ;  he  is  ever  ready  to  pardon  your  sins,  and 
seal  it  with  his  precious  blood;  he  is  ever  calling,  "Come 
unto  me,  all  ye  that  do  labor  and  are  heavy  laden"  with 
the  burden  of  your  sins,  "and  I  will  give  you  rest."  Then 
I  entreat  you,  my  dear  friends,  in  the  name  of  the  most 
high  God,  that  ye  turn  and  lay  hold  of  the  ever-blessed 
Jesu  as  your  shield  of  faith,  and  he  will  arm  you  with  the 
whole  armor  of  God.  But  remember  this  :  though  God  is 
full  of  love  and  mercy,  yet  he  will  be  sought  unto.  Then 
draw  nigh  unto  God  in  secret  prayer,  and  God  will  draw  \ 
nigh  unto  your  precious  souls,  and  that  to  bless  them ;  and 
will  say  unto  you,  Believe  on  me,  "my  grace  is  sufficient 
for  you,"  I  will  cleanse  you  in  my  precious  blood ;  and 
then  shall  your  leprosy  be  healed,  and  you  shall  return  ■ 
without  spot.  And  then  you  must  watch  and  pray  to  him 
continually  to  keep  you  clean.  Oh !  he  is  always  more 
ready  to  hear  than  we  are  to  pray,  and  more  ready  to  give 
than  we  to  ask.  Remember,  rny  dear  father,  that  the  lan- 
guage of  every  prayerless  and  unconverted  soul  is,  "  Depart 
from  me,  O  God  ;"  for  we  desire  not  the  knowledge  of  the 
Most  High.  Then  put  off  the  evil  day  no  longer,  lest  you 
should  hear  him  say,  who  is  willing  and  able  to  save  to  the 
uttermost  those  that  come  unto  him,  "  I  have  stretched  out 
my  hand  all  the  day  long,  and  no  man  regarded."    And 


THE    dairyman's    DAUGHTER.  109 

"behold  I  knock  at  the  door  of  every  man's  heart,  and  to 
hira  that  openeth  unto  me  I  will  come  in,  and  sup  with 
him,  and  he  with  me."  My  dear  father,  those  are  "blessed 
and  comfortable  words ;  and  I  am  his  living  witness,  and  I 
"  set  to  my  seal"  that  Jesus  is  true.  O  the  happy  state 
of  the  children  of  God  !  Now  I  ask  and  receive  :  I  seek 
and  I  find  him  whom  my  soul  loveth ;  yea,  I  always  find 
I  have  a  very  near  access,  through  his  blessed  intercession, 
to  supplicate  the  throne  of  grace ;  and  now  I  can  say, 

"  Before  the  throne  my  surety  stands, 
My  nanne  is  written  on  his  hands ;" 

and  now  I  am  so  filled  with  the  peace  and  love  of  God,, 
that  I  can  lift  up  my  soul  and  say, 

"  My  God,  I  know,  1  feel  thee  mine, 
And  will  not  quit  my  claim, 
Till  all  I  have  is  lost  in  thine, 
And  all  renewed  I  am  ;" 


"  Where'er  1  am,  where'er  1  move, 
I  meet  the  object  of  my  love." 

The  Lord  doth  so  strengthen  my  faith  in  him,,  that  I'find' 
all  his  promises  stand  engaged  to  make  me  blessed.  O' 
may  God  pardon  what  his  poor  unworthy  dust  has  written, 
through  ignorance,  which  is  not  agreeable  to  his  most 
blessed  will,  which  I  will  ever  seek  to  fulfil  I 

*  *  *  *  *  » 

I  have  so  little  taste  for  the  conversation  ©f  this  world,, 
that  it  is  very  unpleasant  to  think  on  it.  My  sister's  love 
and  duty  to  all.  Mr.  B.  will  be  in  the  island  soon,,  please 
God,  and  then  you  are  to  write  to  her.  Desire  my  brother 
to  write  too,  and  direct  her  to  the  house  of  God  in  Bath^ 
10 


110  THE    dairyman's   DAUGHTER. 

for  she  is  still  walking  in  darkness,  and  is  ignorant  of  it. 
O  may  the  Lord  be  graciously  pleased  to  bring  you  all  into 
his  marvellous  light,  that  you  may  praise  him  in  time  and 
eternity :  then  strive  to  enter  in  at  the  strait  gate.  .  .  . 
If  the  Lord  shall  please  to  spare  me,  I  hope  to  see  you  ere 
long ;  if  not  in  this  world,  in  that  v/here  we  shall  bask  in 
unutterable  bliss.  My  dear  friends,  take  not  this  advice 
amiss  from  your  unworthy  child  ;  it  is  the  command  of  my 
blessed  Lord,  "when  thou  art  converted,  remember  thy 
brethren :"  and  I  daily  take  up  my  cross  and  follow  him 
whithersoever  he  goeth :  and  I  pray  God  enable  you  to 
do  the  same.  O  how  should  I  rejoice  and  praise  my  God 
to  see  you  enabled,  through  the  inspiration  of  the  Spirit 
of  the  Most  High,  to  answer  this  ill-'«Titten  letter ! — 
Farewell,  in  the  Lord,  dear  friends. 


The  third  letter  i-s  to  her  sister. 

LETTER  in. 

Cowes,  October  14,  1798. 
'My  dear  Sister, 

I  have  not  had  a  convenient  opportunity  to  write  till 
!now :  I  hope  you  have  not  been  unhappy  at  my  long  si- 
;Lence.  vConsider  that  God  is  my  keeper,  therefore  "I  shall 
Jack  no  manner  of  thing  that  is  good."  I  entreat  you  to 
commend  the  keeping  of  your  soul,  spirit,  and  body,  to  the 
Lord,  for  he  is  a  promise-making,  and  a  true  and  faithful 
promise-keeping  God. 


THE   dairyman's    DAUGHTER.  Ill 

•'Then  let  me  commend  my  Saviour  to  you, 
The  publican's  friend  and  advocate  too." 

My  dear,  I  say  that  God  is  my  keeper :  you  will  say, 
he  is  yours — it  is  true,  for  "  in  him  we  all  live,  move,  and 
have  our  being;"  but  I  can  say  with  Job,  "I  know  that 
my  Redeemer  liveth,"  and 

"  He  is  now  pleading  his  merits  and  death, 
And  still  interceding  for  sinners  beneath:" 

and  he  is  waiting  to  be  gracious  to  you,  for  he  is  long- 
suffering  and  kind,  plenteous  in  goodness  ;  his  love  and 
mercy  know  no  end  nor  bounds,  and  his  compassions  fail 
not :  now,  my  dear, 

«'  Ready  for  you  the  angels  wait, 
To  triumph  in  your  blest  estate: 
Tuning  their  harps,  they  long  to  praise 
The  wonders  of  redeeming  grace." 

O  my  dear  sister,  search  the  scriptures  diligently ;  pray 
to  God  earnestly ;  for  in  so  doing,  you  will  find  that  he  is 
a  God  "nigh  at  hand,  and  not  afar  off."  He  has  promised 
to  be  found  of  those  that  seek  him ;  for  none  ever  sought 
his  face  in  vain,  neither  did  ever  any  trust  in  him,  and  was 
deceived.  O  my  dear  sister,  if  you  did  but  believe  how 
willing  God  is  to  reveal  his  Son  in  your  heart,  the  hope  of 
glory !  O  how  would  your  soul  be  ravished,  if  Christ  would 
appear  to  you  the  altogether  lovely,  and  the  first  among 
ten  thousand  !      Then  could  you  say  those  blessed  words, 

"My  soul,  through  my  Redeemer's  love, 
Saved  from  tlie  second  death  I  feel : 
My  eyes  from  fears  of  dark  despair. 
My  feet  from  falling  into  hell. 


112  THE    dairyman's    DAUGHTER. 

"  Wherefore  my  feet  to  him  shall  run, 
My  eyes  on  his  perfections  gaze, 
My  soul  shall  live  for  God  alone, 
And  all  within  me  shout  his  praise." 

I  eutreat  you  to  read  the  word  of  God  carefully,  for  in  it 
is  eternal  life.  All  the  promises  there  stand  engaged  to 
make  you  blessed,  if  you  truly  repent,  and  forsake  your 
sins,  and  turn  to  God  with  full  purpose  of  heart,  and  fully 
believe  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  he  will  save  you 
from  your  sins,  with  a  present  and  everlasting  salvation  : 
for  he  says,  "  Only  believe,  and  thou  shalt  be  saved."  We 
should  receive  the  word  of  God  as  if  it  was  the  awful 
voice  of  God  from  heaven.     It  icilVhe  awful  to  the  wicked 

and  unconverted : O  may  the  Lord  quicken  your 

dead  soul 

"  with  life  divine, 

And  make  you  in  his  image  shine." 

O  may  you  feel  the  kindlings  of  love  divine  shed  abroad 
in  your  heart !     Farewell  in  the  Lord,  mv  dear  sister. 


The  following  little  narrative  seems  to  have  been  in- 
tended for  her  own  private  use.  It  is  apparently  left  un- 
finished. 

November  30,  1800. 

Elizabeth  Wallbridge,  born  July  '^O.  1770. 

I  feel  my  mind  more  composed  when  writing,  and  more 
free  from  wandering  thoughts,  than  at  any  other  time  ;  for 
I  have  little  retirement,  and  when  I  have,  it  is  seldom  free 
from  disturbances^  so  that  I  am  almost  continually  conver- 
sant with  the  world.     The  Lord  knoweth  what  a  burden 


A 


THE    dairyman's    DAUGHTER.  113 

it  is  to  my  mind,  and  how  impatient  I  have  been.  May 
the  Lord  pardon  his  unfaithful,  unprofitable  servant,  and 
sanctify  me  throughout,  soul,  spirit,  and  body,  and  plunge 
me  in  the  Godhead's  deepest  sea,  that  I  may  be  lost  in  his 
immensity.  O  glorious  hope  of  perfect  love  !  may  it  ever 
fill  and  lift  my  ravished  spirit  up  to  things  above  ;  there  I 
shall  for  ever  love. 

I  thought  I  would  just  set  down,  as  the  Lord  is  pleased 
to  give  me  time  and  strength,  a  few  of  his  particular  mer- 
cies and  favors  as  I  can  recollect.  He  has  abounded  in 
love  and  mercy  to  me  :  O  that  I  had  made  him  all  the  re- 
turns that  love  could  make,  by  giving  myself  a  sacrifice 
daily  unto  him  !  But  now  I  have  to  lament  my  short- 
comings, and  to  apply  to  the  "blood  of  sprinkling"  which 
speaks  my  sins  forgiven,  and  purifies  my  soul  and 
makes  it  meet  for  heaven.  O  what  a  precious  Saviour 
have  I  found  !  O  that  I  could  make  him  known  to  all 
mankind,  that  all  may  turn  and  taste  the  riches  of  his 
grace  !  At  present  I  am  so  very  weak  in  body  and  mind, 
that  I  can  recollect  but  very  little  :  it  has  been  decaying 
near  four  years  ;  but  in  the  Lord  Jehovah  is  my  everlast- 
ing strength,  and  whoever  relies  on  him  shall  never  be 
ashamed,  and  shall  be  freed  from  all  slavish  fears. 

I  seemed  to  have  some  fear  of  God,  and  love  to  him 
from  my  childhood.  His  restraining  grace  kept  me  from 
falling  into  great  and  open  sin,  and  gave  me  such  a  love  to 
truth  and  uprightness,  that  I  seemed  to  hate  every  false 
way  word,  and  work,  in  myself  and  others.  I  remember 
when  I  went  to  school,  one  of  my  playmates  that  I  was 
very  fond  of,  used  to  take  every  opportunity  to  get  money 
from  her  mother  unknown  to  her,  and  bring  to  school,  and 
buy  all  kinds  of  little  toys,  and  then  freely  give  me  and 
10* 


114  THE   dairyman's   DAUGHTER. 

anotner  or  two  an  equal  share  with  herself.  But  O  how 
did  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  strive  with  me  at  that  time,  and 
convince  me  of  the  evil,  so  that  I  had  no  peace  of  mind 
whilst  I  partook  of  the  sin,  and  yet  I  had  not  strength  to 
resist  it.  It  was  so  on  my  mind  that  I  ought  to  make  her 
fault  known,  not  to  conceal  it  and  partake  of  part.  I  could 
see  it  a  great  evil  in  the  person  that  sold  her  the  things, 
whose  daughter  took  part,  and,  I  believe,  knew  as  well  as 
I  did  how  she  came  by  it ;  but  I  never  revealed  it,  though 
I  always  bore  it  on  my  mind  with  abhorrence.  What  a 
sad  thing  to  yield  to  sin,  against  such  clear  convictions  ! 

I  was  early  taught  a  form  of  prayer,  which  I  continued 
to  repeat  in  a  careless  manner  when  I  was  laid  down  in 
bed,  but  very  often  I  fell  asleep  before  I  said  them  half. 
But,  blessed  be  God,  he  still  spared  me,  and  often  drew 
me  to  himself  by  the  cords  of  love  :  for  at  an  early  age  he 
drew  me  to  secret  prayer,  where  I  often  felt  the  kindlings 
of  his  love  ;  but  had  none  to  set  me  forward,  so  that  I 
often  neglected  this  duty  ;  but  when  alone,  I  ^lave  often 
felt  great  sweetness  in  it.  I  believe  if  I  had  heard  the 
Gospel  preached,  I  should  have  been  very  early  devoted 
to  that  God  I  now  love  and  adore.  But  I  do  not  yet  love 
him  as  he  has  promised  I  shall,  with  all  my  loving  heart, 
when  sin  is  all  destroyed.  O  happy  moment,  how  I  long 
for  it ! 


i 


THE   dairyman's   DAUGHTER.  115 


The  last  document  is 

HER  WILL. 

My  dear  father,  and  mother,  and  brothers — If  it  should 
please  the  Lord  to  spare  you  all,  till  after  my  decease,  I 
take  this  opportunity  to  set  down  what  I  simply  desire,  if 
it  be  the  Lord's  will,  and  agreeable  to  you  all.  If  I  die 
under  this  roof,  it  will  be  best,  as  soon  as  I  am  dead,  to 

have  my  coffin  made  ;  let  Mr. make  it,  if  it  is  quite 

agreeable  :  and  then  I  can  be  carried  down  stairs,  not  to 
disturb  you,  or  break  your  rest.  And  there  the  angels  of 
my  covenant-making  and  promise-keeping  God  will  watch 
over  me  and  protect  my  sleeping  dust ;  so  that  you  need  not 
fear  any  evil  spirit,  for  they  will  have  done  with  me  for 
ever,  they  will  never  assault  me  any  more  ;  I  shall  then, 
through  Christ,  who  hath  loved  me  with  an  everlasting 
love,  gain  the  glorious  victory  over  all  the  principalities 
and  powers  of  darkness  ;  for  they  know  that  I  am  a  re- 
deemed captive  from  their  power,  though  they  cease  not 
to  tempt  me  to  return  to  my  former  customs,  that  I  may 
be  again  in  bondage  to  fear  :  but  glory  be  given  to  God, 
his  grace  is  sufficient  for  me  ;  hitherto  he  hath  brought 
me  safe  through,  and  I  know  he  will  save  to  the  end.  May 
I  lift  up  my  heart  to  him  and  cry — O  thou 

"Fairer  than  the  sons  of  men, 
Do  not  let  me  turn  again." 

Let  my  coffin  be  very  plain,  neat,  and  strong,  made  to 
cover  very  close.  Let  it  be  made  white  inside  and  out,  if 
no  trouble  ;  and  for  my  shroud  a  little  wool  will  do,  if  you 


116  THE    dairyman's    DAUGHTER. 

like  it  :  it  will  be  less  expense  ;  for  it  will  all  turn  to  dust 
I  care  not  who  you  ask  to  my  funeral ;  I  want  no  form  of 
young  people,  I  had  rather  have  those  that  love  God,  that 
they  may  rejoice  over  me  with  angels  above,  and  praise  a 
God  of  love.  [She  then  names  several  friends  whom  she 
desired  to  be  present,  and  proceeds.]  Let  them  all  meet 
together  that  can  or  will  come  .  .  .  and  I  trust  they  will 
feel  the  Lord  powerfully  present  in  the  midst  to  bless 
every  waiting  soul,  and  reveal  the  secrets  of  his  love.  Mr. 
Richmond,  or  the  minister  of  Newchurch,  which  you 
please  ;  I  love  them  both,  because  they  love  God  :  for 
"  God  is  love  ;"  and  his  love  constrains  us  to  love  one 
another Do  not  be  afraid  of  disturbing  the  peace- 
ful dead  in  singing  praises  to  God  and  the  Lamb  who  hath 
redeemed  me  from  sin.  It  may  be,  my  happy  spirit  may 
be  permitted  to  join  with  listening  angels  who  catch  the 
approving  sound,  while  all  heaven's  host  cry — a  child  is 
born  into  our  world  above. 

Let  these  hymns  be  sung  :  the  37th,  "  Hosanna  to 
Jesus  on  high;"  the  35th,  "  'Tis  finished,  'tis  done  ;"  the 
33rc1,  "  Ah  lovely  appearance  of  death  ;"  the  50th,  in  the 
large  book,  "  Hark,  a  voice  divides  the  sky."  If  the 
preacher  please,  for  the  glory  of  God,  and  the  good  of  the 
living,  let  him  preach  a  sermon  from  Psalm  cxvi.  15 — 
"  Precious  in  the  sight  of  the  Lord  is  the  death  of  his 
saints  :"  and  may  the  word  be  atttended  with  power ;  a 
divine  energy  and  the  quickening  influence  of  the  Spirit 
of  God  rest  upon  the  ministers  and  the  hearers,  that  glory 
may  be  given  to  God,  and  great  good  done  in  his  precious 
name  ;  that  his  saints  that  love  him  may  be  strengthened 
and  refreshed  and  built  up  in  their  most  holy  faith  ;  that 
they  may  go  on  their  way  rejoicing  in  the  strength  of  the 


THE  dairyman's  DAUGHTER.  117 

Lord,  from  grace  to  grace,  till  glory  end  what  grace  be- 
gan ;  that  they  may  be  fully  prepared  to  meet  death  with 
Christian  courage.  And  may  all  my  dear  friends  follow 
on  to  know  the  Lord,  and  experimentally  to  feel  the  saving 
power  of  divine  grace  in  each  of  their  hearts,  that  they 
may  give  glory  to  God,  and  triumphantly  quit  the  stage 
of  mortality,  shouting  Victory  through  the  blood  of  the 
Lamb  that  was  slain,  who  now  is  ascended  on  high  for  ever 
to  reign.  But  I  would  have  all  to  remember,  if  they  have 
never  yet  been  convinced  of  their  lost  and  miserable  state 
by  nature,  that  it  is  high  time  for  them  to  avv^ake  out  of 
sleep,  and  cry  mightily  to  God  to  show  them  their  danger, 
and  save  them  from  destruction.  For  without  faith  and 
prayer  you  cannot  be  saved.  Then  come  like  the  humble 
publican,  with  a  feeling  sense  of  your  sins,  and  true  faith 
in  HIS  merits  to  atone  for  your  sins,  and  cleanse  your 
guilty  souls,  and  you  will  be  sure  to  find  mercy,  pardon, 
and  peace,  and  grace  to  help  you  in  every  time  of  need. 
When  I  was  brought  home,  I  was  in  great  hopes  I  should 
see  a  great  change  ;  but  I  have  been  painfully  disappoint- 
\  ed  to  the  present  moment,  which  often  fills  my  heart  with 
j  grief  and  sorrow,  to  see  sinners  so  unconcerned  upon  the 
brink  of  death.  But  if  I  am  never  permitted  to  see  that 
happy  change,  I  hope  you  will  experience  it,  and  meet  me 
I  in  glory  ;  there  we  shall  part  no  more.  [  The  remainder 
i  is  occupied  with  the  dislrihulion  of  her  little  property,  con- 
sisting almost  entirely  of  wearing  apparel,  among  her  rela- 
tives.'] 


118  THE    dairyman's    DAUGHTER. 


The  following  letters  were  addressed  to  the  Dairyman's 
daughter  by  Mr.  Richmond.  The  first  is  merely  a  short 
note,  but  it  is  inserted  as  a  characteristic  illustration  of 
the  style  in  which  he  addressed  her. 


LETTER  I. 


It  has  pleased  God,  my  Christian  sister,  for  several 
weeks  past,  to  keep  me  in  a  state  of  sickness,  from  which 
soon,  by  his  goodness,  I  hope  to  be  relieved.  I  am  at 
present  unable  to  say  half  what  I  wish  to  you ;  but  lest 
you  should  suspect  me  of  inattention  to  your  friendly  and 
welcome  letter,  I  write  these  few  lines  to  say,  that  you 
shall  either  hear  from  me  at  length,  or  see  me  shortly. 
May  God  support  you  through  your  trial  of  ill-health ;  and 
the  nearer  you  approach  the  other  world,  whenever  it  bo 
God's  appointed  time,  may  you  be  more  and  more  heaven- 
ly-mindod. — Peace  be  multiplied  to  you.  1  pray  for  you, 
and  beg  you  to  know 

How  faithfully  I  am. 

Yours  in  Christ, 

L.  Richmond 


THE  dairyman's  DAUGHTER.  119 


LETTER  II. 

You  may  be  assured,  upon  the  faith  of  one  who  loves 
God,  and  would  fain  serve  and  obey  him,  that  you  are  not 
out  of  my  mind,  though  I  have  been  prevented  from  doing 
myself  the  pleasure  of  calling  upon  you.  I  have  also  de- 
layed writing  till  now  from  an  almost  daily  expectation  of 
coming  your  way  ;  but  as  it  has  happened  otherwise,  I 
now  acknowledge  the  receipt  of  your  last  letter,  and  rejoice 
at  the  sight  of  words  dictated  by  a  spirit  of  godliness, 
humility,  and  love.  In  a  perverse  and  adulterous  genera- 
tion, like  the  present  one,  what  can  be  so  cheering  to  the 
soul  as  converse  with  those  who  really  know  the  Lord, 
and  love  him  because  he  hath  first  loved  them  ?  I  am 
well  convinced  of  the  propriety  and  force  of  your  advice 
with  respect  to  ray  conduct,  and  that  of  the  ministers  of 
the  gospel  in  general,  God  grant  such  a  weak  and  un- 
profitable servant  as  I  am,  may  find  grace  and  ability  to 
conduct  myself  as  becomes  a  faithful  laborer  in  the  vine- 
yard !  For  who  can  do  it  of  his  own  strength  1  What 
are  the  natural  powers  of  sinful  man  to  work  out  the 
righteousness  of  God  1  To  the  Spirit  of  Christ,  which 
changeth  and  strengtheneth  the  inner  man,  we  must  at- 
tribute all :  to  him  be  honor,  glory,  and  praise  in  all  the 
churches,  now  and  evermore. 

I  have  read  your  two  books,  and  find  much  profit  in  them 
both.  It  appears  that  the  life  of  Madame  Guion  should  be 
attended  to  with  some  caution,  which  Mr.  Wesley  very 
frequently  draws  our  observation  to  in  his  short  notes  at 
the  bottom  of  the  pages.    She  was  sometimes  influenced 


120  THE   dairyman's   DAUGHTER. 

by  notions  which  had  not  a  sufficiently  strong  scriptural 
foundation,  and  therefore  in  these  things  should  not  be  set 
as  a  pattern ;  but  her  love  of  God,  and  her  anxiety  to  be 
for  ever  joined  to  him,  are  lovely  and  interesting.  The 
true  rule  for  discerning  the  motions  and  operation  of  the 
blessed  Spirit  within  us,  is  to  compare  our  feelings  with 
those  ways  of  holiness,  happy  fruits  of  the  Spirit,  which 
the  apostle  describes  :  let  every  thing  be  referred  to  this 
as  a  standard,  and  we  never  shall  be  mistaken.  May  God 
so  guide  and  direct  you  and  me  to  all  goodness,  that  our 
works  may  glorify — not  ourselves,  none  but  Jesus  can  do 
that, — but  our  Father  which  is  in  heaven.  May  numbers 
have  reason,  through  the  mercy  of  God,  to  bless  our 
memory :  and  may  the  seed  which  in  my  ministerial  ca- 
pacity I  am  commissioned  to  sow,  to  plant,  and  to  water, 
receive  its  due  increase  from  God.  I  assure  you  this  lies 
much  at  my  heart,  and  occupies  much  of  my  thoughts ; 
seeing  and  "knowing  the  terrors  of  the  Lord,"  I  would 
"persuade  men"  with  all  truth,  earnestness,  and  sin- 
cerity, to  flee  from  the  wrath  to  come,  and  throw  them- 
selves and  their  sins  at  the  foot  of  the  cross,  with 
true  repentance  and  faith.  Faith  is  the  hand  which  we 
stretch  forth  to  receive  the  benefits  of  Christ's  blood ;  it 
is  the  soul  of  the  spiritual  life,  and  the  grand  distinguish- 
ing characteristic  of  the  true  Christian  from  the  false ; 
it  is  the  touchstone  of  Christianity;  the  burning  coal 
which  sets  fire  to  the  sacrifice  on  the  altar ;  the  sun 
which  enlightens  the  wilderness  of  the  world;  the  lantern 
which  guides  our  feet  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of 
death.  True  faith  never  can  be  separated  from  hope  and 
love ;  they  are  three  lovely  sisters  w-ho  take  up  their 
dwelling  in  the  heart  when  it  becomes  the  temple  of  the 


THE  dairyman's  DAUGHTER.  121 

Holy  Ghost ;  their  parent  is  God,  and  their  offspring 
righteous  works  :  how  do  they  shine  forth  in  the  midst  of 
a  vain  and  wicked  world,  like  a  candle  set  upon  a  hill  in  a 
dark  and  gloomy  night !  May  their  operations  spread 
wider  and  wider  over  the  face  of  the  world,  and  may  the 
church  of  God  increase  in  their  fruits,  till  at  length  the 
happy  time  shall  arrive  when  the  kingdoms  of  this  world 
shall  become  the  kingdom  of  the  Lord  and  his  anointed. 
God  hasten  so  blessed  a  period  ! 

I  was  much  shocked  at  the  sudden  death  of  my  neigh- 
bor   .     Such  unprepared  calls  ought  to  operate  upon 

those  that  are  left  behind,  as  salutary  warnings :  alive  and 
healthy  this  morning,  who  knoweth  that  this  very  night 
our  souls  shall  not  be  required  of  us  1  Let  us  be  on  the 
watch,  and  endeavor  to  make  others  so,  for  we  "  know 
neither  the  day  nor  the  hour"  of  our  Master's  coming.  I 
am  told  that  his  successor  has  given  some  strong  calls  to 
duty  and  attentiveness  in  religion,  which  I  hope  in  God 
will  prove  efficacious.  He  appears  in  conversation  very 
much  in  earnest,  and  seems  steady  and  persevering ;  but 
I  have  only  seen  him  twice.  In  that  parish  you  well  know 
how  much  reformation  is  wanted.  Alas  !  into  what  place 
can  we  go  where  it  is  not  wanting?  Iniquity  triumphs, 
and  presumption  darkens  the  very  heavens  with  her  wide- 
spreading  wings  ;  blasphemy,  covetousness,  and  unclean- 
ness,  abound  and  prosper ;  men  are  lovers  of  pleasure, 
rather  than  lovers  of  God.  Does  not  the  world  go  just  as 
Satan  would  have  it]  Sometimes  he  will  even  suggest 
to  the  faithful  that  their  endeavors  are  in  vain,  and  he 
tempts  to  inactivity  and  sloth ;  but,  blessed  be  God,  the 
Bible  is  in  our  hands,  and  there  we  find  arguments,  and 
strength,  and  consolation,  and  admonition,  and  precept, 
11 


122  THE  dairyman's  daughter. 

and  commandment,  and  encouragement  to  proceed  in  the 
mighty  task  of  beating  down  the  strongholds  of  iniquity, 
and  destroying  the  works  of  the  devil.  Even  though  "the 
overflowings  of  ungodliness  may  make  us  afraid,"  God 
worketh  the  good  cause,  and  in  the  end  it  shall  prosper. 
The  church  shall  never  fail,  nor  shall  the  gates  of  hell 
prevail  against  it.  Your  health,  I  hear,  is  weak :  may  God 
strengthen  the  inner  man  as  he  thinks  fit  to  weaken  the 
outer ;  may  his  kingdom  rule  in  your  heart,  though  the 
outward  fortifications  crumble  to  dust.  If  it  please  God 
to  shorten  the  span  of  your  life,  I  trust  you  will  meet  your 
Redeemer  w'ith  peace  and  joy,  and  that  you  will  employ 
the  rest  of  that  time  vvhich  is  appointed  you  on  earth  in 
promoting  the  cause  of  righteousness,  in  combating  the 
artifices  of  Satan,  resisting  the  ways  of  ungodliness,  con- 
versing with  God  in  fervent  prayer  and  holy  meditation, 
contemplating  his  redeeming  love,  and  hungering  after 
higher  and  higher  degrees  of  virtue.  May  the  prospect 
of  a  heavenly  inheritance  keep  you  alive  to  holiness  and 
gratitude,  and  in  looking  upon  the  world  around,  remember 
that  the  true  spirit  of  the  gospel  teaches  us  to  love  the 
sinner  whilst  w^e  hate  the  sin. — Grace,  mercy,  and  peace 
be  multiplied  upon  you  from  God  and  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ. 

Believe  me  to  be 

Yours,  with  Christian  regard, 

L.  Richmond. 


THB  XND  or  THE  SAIRTMAA  S  DAUGHTER. 


THE 


NEGRO   SERVANT 


PART  I. 

If  a  map  of  the  world,  instead  of  being  colored,  as  is 
usual,  with  many  gay  and  brilliant  tints,  in  order  to  distin- 
guish its  various  continents,  kingdoms,  and  islands  from  each 
other,  were  to  be  painted  with  darker  or  brighter  hues  cor- 
responding with  the  spiritual  character  of  the  inhabitants, 
what  a  gloomy  aspect  would  be  presented  to  the  eye  of 
the  Christian  geographer,  by  the  greater  portion  of  the 
habitable  globe  ! — How  dark  would  be  the  shade  thus  cast 
over  the  larger  districts  of  the  vast  continents  of  Asia  and 
America  !  and  what  a  mass  of  gloom  would  characterize 
the  African  quarter  of  the  world  ! 

Here  and  there  a  bright  spot  would  mark  the  residence 
of  a  few  missionary  laborers  devoting  themselves  to  God, 
and  scattering  the  rays  of  Christian  light  among  tlie  sur- 
rounding heathen  :  but  over  the  greater  part  "  the  black- 
ness of  darkness"  would  emblematically  describe  the  iron 
reign  of  Mahometan  superstition  and  Pagan  idolatry. 

The  Christian  prays  that  God  would  "have  respect  untx) 


124  THE    NEGRO    SERVANT. 

the  covenant ;  for  the  dark  places  of  the  earth  are  full  of 
the  habitations  of  cruelty."  He  hopes  to  see  the  nations 
"open  their  eyes,  and  turn  from  darkness  to  light,  and 
from  the  power  of  Satan  unto  God,  that  they  may  receive 
forgiveness  of  sins,  and  inheritance  among  them  which 
are  sanctified  by  faith." 

The  curse  originally  pronounced  on  the  descendants  of 
Ham,  has,  in  a  variety  of  respects,  both  temporal  and 
spiritual,  been  awfully  fulfilled  : — "  A  servant  of  servants 
shall  he  be."  Slavery,  as  well  of  mind  as  body,  has  been 
continued  amongst  the  Africans  through  their  generations 
in  a  manner  which  at  once  proves  the  truth  of  the  divine 
prediction,  and  yet  calls  aloud  for  the  ardent  prayers  and 
active  exertions  of  Christians  in  their  behalf.  The  time 
will  come  when  the  heathen  shall  be  proved  to  have  been 
given  to  Christ  "  for  an  inheritance,  and  the  uttermost 
parts  of  the  earth  for  his  possession."  The  degraded 
Hottentot,  and  the  poor  benighted  Negro,  will  look  from 
the  ends  of  the  earth  unto  Jesus,  and  be  saved.  "  Many 
go  to  and  fro,  and  knowledge  shall  thereby  be  increased." 
The  Redeemer  "  shall  see  of  the  travail  of  his  soul,  and 
be  satisfied,"  in  beholding  the  gathering  together,  not  only 
of  the  outcasts  of  Israel,  that  are  ready  to  perish  ;  but  of 
churches  and  people  from  all  the  tongues,  and  kindreds, 
and  nations  of  the  earth.  In  the  day  of  his  appearing,  the 
sons  of  Africa  will  vie  with  their  brethren  of  the  North, 
and  the  West,  and  the  East,  in  resounding  the  praises  of 
God  their  Saviour,  from  one  end  of  the  earth  to  the  other. 

In  the  mean  time  we  rejoice  in  every  occasional  in- 
stance of  the  love  and  power  of  God  in  effecting  the  con- 
version of  some,  who  appear  as  the  first  fruits  of  that  har- 
vest which  shall  hereafter  so  fruitfully  grow  up,  to  the 


THE    NEGRO    SERVANT.  125 

honor  of  Christ  and  the  blessedness  of  his  redeemed 
people. 

The  following  narrative  of  real  facts  may,  perhaps, 
illustrate  the  importance  of  the  foregoing  remarks. 

During  a  residence  of  some  years'  continuance  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  sea,  an  Officer  of  the  navy  called 
upon  me,  and  stated  that  he  had  just  taken  a  lodging  in 
the  parish  for  his  wife  and  children  ;  and  had  a  Negro, 
who  had  been  three  years  in  his  service.  "  The  lad  is  a 
deserving  fellow,"  said  the  Officer,  "  and  he  has  a  great 
desire  to  be  baptized  :  I  have  promised  him  to  ask  you  to 
do  it,  if  you  have  not  any  objections." 

"  Doe.s  he  know  any  thing,"  replied  I,  "  of  the  principles 
of  the  Christian  religion  V 

"  O  yes,  I  am  sure  he  does,"  answered  the  Captain  ; 
"  for  he  talks  a  great  deal  about  it  in  the  kitchen,  and  often 
gels  laughed  at  for  his  pains  ;  but  he  takes  it  all  very  pa- 
tiently." 

"  Does  he  behave  well  as  your  servant  ?" 

"  Yes,  that  he  does  ;  he  is  as  honest  and  civil  a  fellow 
as  ever  came  on  board  ship,  or  lived  in  a  house." 

"  Was  he  always  so  well  behaved  ?" 

"  No,"  said  the  Officer  ;  "  when  J  first  had  him,  he  was 
often  very  unruly  and  deceitful ;  but  for  the  last  two  years 
he  has  been  quite  like  another  creature." 

"  Well,  sir,  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  see  him,  and  think  it 
probable  I  shall  wish  to  go  thn^ugh  a  course  of  instruction 
and  examination  ;  during  which,  I  shall  be  able  to  form  a 
judgment  how  far  it  will  be  right  to  admit  him  to  the  sa- 
crament of  baptism.     Can  he  read  ?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  his  master  :  "  he  has  been  taking  great 
pains  to  learn  to  read  for  some  time  past,  and  can  make 
11* 


126  THE    >-EGRO    SERVANT. 

out  a  chapter  in  the  Bible  pretty  well,  as  my  maid-servant 
mforms  me.  He  speaks  English  better  than  many  of  his 
countrymen,  but  you  will  find  it  a  httle  broken.  When 
will  it  be  convenient  that  I  should  send  him  over  to  you  V 

"To-morrow  afternoon,  sir,  if  you  please." 

"  He  shall  come  to  you  about  four  o'clock,  and  you  shall 
see  what  you  can  make  of  him." 

AVith  this  promise  he  took  his  leave.  I  felt  glad  of  an 
opportunity  of  instructing  a  native  of  that  land  whose 
wrongs  and  injuries  had  often  caused  me  to  sigh  and 
mourn  ;  the  more  so,  when  I  reflected  ivho  had  been  the 
aggressors. 

At  the  appointed  hour  my  negro  disciple  arrived.  He 
was  a  very  young-looking  man,  with  a  sensible,  lively,  and 
pleasing  countenance. 

I  desired  him  to  sit  down,  and  said,  "  Your  master  in- 
forms me,  that  you  wish  to  have  some  conversation  with 
me  respecting  Christian  baptism." 

"  Yes,  sir,  me  very  much  wish  to  be  a  Christian," 
said  he. 

"  Why  do  you  wish  so  ]" 

"  Because  me  know  that  Christian  go  to  heaven  when 
^e  die." 

"  How  long  have  you  had  that  wish  J"  I  said. 

•'  Ever  since  me  heard  one  goot  minister  preach  in 
America,  two  years  ago." 

"  Where  were  you  born  V 

"  In  Africa.  Me  was  very  little  boy  when  me  was  made 
slave  by  the  white  men  " 

"  How  was  that  ?" 

"  Me  left  father  and  mother  one  day  at  home  to  go  get 
shells  by  de  sea  shore,  and  as  I  was  stooping  down  to 


THE    NEGRO    SERVANT. 


127 


gather  them  up,  some  white  sailors  came  out  of  a  boat  and 
took  me  away.     Me  never  see  father  nor  mother  again." 

"And  what  became  of  you  then  V 

"  Me  was  put  into  ship,  and  brought  to  Jamaica  and  sold 
to  a  master,  who  kept  me  in  his  house  to  serve  him  some 

years  ;  when,  about  three  years  ago,  Captain  W ,  my 

master,  dat  spoke  to  you,  bought  me  to  be  his  servant  on 
board  his  ship.  And  he  be  goot  master  ;  he  gave  me  my 
liberty,  and  made  me  free,  and  me  live  with  him  ever 
since." 

"  And  what  thoughts  had  you  about  your  soul  all  that 
time  before  you  went  to  America  V  I  asked  him. 

"  Me  no  care  for  my  soul  at  all  before  den.  No  man 
teach  me  one  word  about  my  soul." 

'*  Well,  now  tell  me  further  about  what  happened  to  you 
in  America.     How  came  you  there  ]" 

My  master  take  me  dere  in  his  ship,  and  he  stop  dere 
one  month,  and  den  me  hear  the  goot  minister." 

"  And  what  did  the  minister  say  V 

"  He  said  me  was  great  sinner." 

"  What,  did  he  speak  to  you  in  particular  ?" 

"  Yes,  me  tink  so  ;  for  dere  was  great  many  to  hear 
him,  but  he  tell  dem  all  about  me." 

"  What  did  he  say  3" 

"  He  say  about  all  de  tings  dat  were  in  my  heart." 

"  What  things  V 

"  My  sin,  my  ignorance,  my  know  noting,  my  believe 
noting.  De  goot  minister  made  me  see  dat  me  link  noting 
goot,  no  do  noting  goot." 

"  And  what  else  did  he  tell  you  7" 

"  He  sometime  look  me  in  de  face,  and  say,  dat  .Tosus 
Christ  came  to  die  for  sinners,  poor  black  sinners,  as  well 


128 


THE    NEGRO    SERVAN-T. 


as  white  sinners.  -\Ie  tought  dis  was  very  goot,  very  goot 
indeed,  to  do  so  for  a  wicked  sinner." 

"  And  what  made  you  think  this  was  all  spoken  to  you 
in  particular]" 

"  Because  me  sure  no  such  wicked  sinner  as  me  in  all 
de  place.     De  goot  minister  must  know  me  was  dere." 

"And  what  did  you  think  of  yourself  while  he  preached 
about  Jesus  Christ  ]" 

"  Sir,  me  was  very  much  afraid,  when  he  said  the  wick- 
ed must  be  turned  into  hell-fire.  For  me  felt  dat  me  was 
very  wicked  sinner,  and  dat  make  me  cry.  And  he  talk 
much  about  de  love  of  Christ  to  sinners,  and  dat  make  me 
cry  more.  And  me  tought  me  must  love  Jesus  Christ ; 
but  me  not  know  how,  and  dat  make  me  cry  again." 

"Did  you  hear  more  sermons  than  one  during  that 
month]" 

"Yes,  sir ;  master  gave  me  leave  to  go  tree  times,  and 
all  de  times  me  wanted  to  love  Jesus  more,  and  do  what 
Jesus  said  ;  but  my  heart  seem  sometime  hard,  like  a 
stone." 

"  Have  you  ever  heard  any  preaching  since  that  time  V 

"Never,  till  me  hear  sermon  at  dis  church  last  Sunday, 
and  den  me  long  to  b^  baptized  in  Jesu's  name  ;  for  me 
had  no  Christian  friends  to  baptize  me  when  little  child." 

"  And  what  have  been  your  thoughts  all  the  time  since 
you  first  heard  these  sermons  in  America  ]  did  you  tell 
anybody  then  what  you  felt  ?" 

"  No,  me  speak  to  nobody  but  to  God  den.  De  goot  minis- 
ter say,  that  God  hear  de  cry  of  de  poor  ;  so  me  cry  to 
God,  and  he  hear  me.  And  me  often  tink  about  Jesus 
Christ,  and  wish  to  be  like  him." 

"  Can  you  read  ]" 


THE   NEGRO    SERVANT.  129 

"A  little." 

"  Who  taught  you  to  read  V 

"  God  teach  me  to  read." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  saying  so?" 

"  God  give  me  desire  to  read,  and  that  make  reading 
easy.  Master  give  me  Bible,  and  one  sailor  show  me  de 
letters  ;  and  so  me  learned  to  read  by  myself,  with  God's 
good  help.' 

"  And  what  do  you  read  in  the  Bible  ?" 

"  O  !  me  read  all  about  Jesus  Christ,  and  how  he  loved 
sinners  ;  and  wicked  men  killed  him,  and  he  died,  and 
came  again  from  de  grave,  and  all  dis  for  poor  negro.  And 
it  sometime  make  me  cry,  to  tink  that  Christ  love  so  poor 
negro." 

"  And  what  do  the  people  say  about  your  reading,  and 
praying,  and  attention  to  the  things  of  God  ?" 

"  Some  wicked  people  dat  do  not  love  Jesus  Christ,  call 
me  great  fool,  and  negro  dog,  and  black  hypocrite.  And 
dat  make  me  sometime  feel  angry  ;  but  den  me  remember 
Christian  must  not  be  angry,  for  Jesus  Christ  was  called 
ugly  black  names,  and  he  was  quiet  as  a  lamb ;  and  so 
den  me  remember  Jesus  Christ,  and  me  say  noting  again 
to  dem." 

I  was  much  delighted  with  the  simplicity  and  apparent 
sincerity  of  this  poor  negro  ;  and  wished  to  ascertain  what 
measure  of  light  and  feeling  he  possessed  on  a  few  lead- 
ing points.  St.  Paul's  summary  of  religion'^  occurring  to 
me,  I  said,  "  Tell  me,  what  is  faith  1  What  is  your  own 
faith  1  What  do  you  believe  about  Jesus  Christ,  and  your 
own  soul?" 

*  Now  abideth  faith,  hope,  charity ;  these  three ;  but  the  greatest  of  these 
is  charity.    (1  Cor.  xiii.  13.) 


130  THE    ^EGRO    SERVANT. 

"Me  believe,"  said  he,  "  dat  Jesus  Christ  came  into  de 
world  to  save  sinners,  and  dough  me  be  chief  of  smners, 
yet  Jesus  will  save  me,  dough  me  be  only  poor  black 
negro." 

"  What  is  your  hope  ?  What  do  you  hope  for,  both  as 
to  this  life  and  that  which  is  to  come  ]" 

"  Me  hope  Jesus  Christ  will  take  goot  care  of  me,  and 
keep  me  from  sin  and  harm,  while  me  live  here  ;  and  me 
hope,  when  me  come  to  die,  to  go  and  live  with  him  al- 
ways, and  never  die  again." 

"  What  are  your  thoughts  about  Christian  love  or  chari- 
ty 1     I  mean,  whom  and  what  do  you  most  love  V 

"  Me  love  God  de  Father,  because  he  was  so  goot  to 
send  his  Son.  Me  love  Jesus  Christ,  because  he  love 
men.  Me  love  all  men,  black  men  and  white  men  too  ; 
for  God  made  dem  all.  Me  love  goot  Christian  people, 
because  Jesus  love  dem,  and  dey  love  Jesus." 

Such  was  my  first  conversation  with  this  young  disci- 
ple ;  I  rejoiced  in  the  prospect  of  receiving  him  into  the 
church,  agreeably  to  his  desire.  I  wished,  however,  to 
converse  somewhat  further,  and  inquire  more  minutely 
into  his  conduct ;  and  promised  to  ride  over,  and  see  him 
in  a  few  days  at  his  master's  lodgings. 

When  he  was  gone,  I  thought  within  myself,  God  has 
indeed  redeemed  souls  by  the  blood  of  his  Son,  "  out  of 
every  kindred  and  tongue,  and  people  and  nation."  If 
many  of  them  for  a  season  are  devoted  to  earthly  slavery,* 
through  the  cruel  avarice  of  man ;  yet,  blessed  be  God, 
some  amongst  them  are,  through  divine  grace,  called  to 
the  glorious  liberty  of  the  children  of  God  ;  and  so  are  re- 

*  This  circumstance  took  place  before  Uie  late  abolition  of  the  slave  trade. 


THE   NEGRO    SERVANT.  131 

deemed  from  the  slavery  of  him  who  takes  so  many  cap- 
tive at  his  will. 

It  is  a  happy  thought,  that  "  Ethiopia  shall  soon  stretch 
forth  her  hands  unto  God.  Sing  unto  God,  ye  kingdoms 
of  the  earth.     O  sing  praises  unto  the  Lord." 


PART  II. 

When  we  endeavor  to  estimate  the  worth  of  an  immor- 
tal soul,  we  are  utterly  lost  in  the  attempt.  The  art  of 
spiritual  computation  is  not  governed  by  the  same  princi- 
ples and  rules  which  guide  our  speculations  concerning 
earthly  objects.  The  value  of  gold,  silver,  merchandise, 
food,  raiment,  lands,  and  houses,  is  easily  regulated  by 
custom,  convenience,  or  necessity.  Even  the  more  capri- 
cious and  imaginary  worth  of  a  picture,  medal,  or  statue, 
may  be  reduced  to  something  of  systematic  rule.  Crowns 
and  sceptres  have  had  their  adjudged  valuation  ;  and  king- 
doms have  been  bought  and  sold  for  sums  of  money.  But 
who  can  affix  the  adequate  price  to  a  human  soul  ]  "  What 
shall  it  profit  a  man,  if  he  shall  gain  the  whole  world,  and 
lose  his  own  soul  ?  or  what  shall  a  man  give  in  exchange 
for  his  soul  V 

The  principles  of  ordinary  arithmetic  all  fail  here  ;  and 
we  are  constrained  to  say,  that  He  alone  who  paid  the 
ransom  for  sinners,  and  made  the  souls  of  men  his  "  pur- 
chased possession,"  can  comprehend  and  solve  the  arduous 
question.     They  are  indeed  "bought  with  a  price:"  but 


132  THE    >-EGEO    SERVANT. 

are  "  not  redeemed  v»ith  corruptible  things,  as  silver  and 
gold  ;  but  with  the  precious  blood  of  Christ,  as  of  a  lamb 
without  blemish  and  without  spot."  We  shall  only  ascer- 
tain the  value  of  a  soul,  when  we  shall  be  fully  able  to 
estimate  the  worth  of  a  Saviour. 

Too  often  have  we  been  obliged  to  hear  what  is  the 
price  which  sordid  unfeeling  avarice  has  affixed  to  the  body 
of  a  poor  negro  slave  ;  let  us  now  attempt,  while  we  pur- 
sue the  foregoing  narrative,  to  meditate  on  the  value  which 
Infinite  Mercy  has  attached  to  his  soul 

Not  many  days  after  my  first  interview  with  my  negro 
disciple,  I  went  from  home  with  the  design  of  visiting  and 
conversing  with  him  again  at  his  master's  house,  which 
was  situated  in  a  part  of  the  parish  nearly  four  miles  dis- 
tant from  my  own.  The  road  which  I  took  lay  over  a 
lofty  down,  which  commands  a  prospect  of  scenery  seldom 
exceeded  in  beauty  and  magnificence.  It  gave  birth  to 
silent  but  instructive  contemplation. 

The  down  itself  was  covered  with  sheep,  grazing  on  its 
wholesome  and  plentiful  pasture.  Here  and  there  a  shep- 
herd's boy  kept  his  appointed  station,  and  watched  over 
the  flock  committed  to  his  care.  I  viewed  it  as  an  emblem 
of  my  own  situation  and  employment.  Adjoining  the  hill 
lay  an  extensive  parish,  wherein  many  souls  were  given 
me  to  watch  over,  and  render  an  account  of,  at  the  day  of 
the  great  Shepherd's  appearing.  The  pastoral  scene  be- 
fore me  seemed  to  be  a  living  parable,  illustrative  of  my 
own  spiritual  charge.  I  felt  a  prayerful  wish,  that  the  good 
Shepherd  who  gave  his  life  for  the  sheep,  might  enable  me 
to  be  faithful  to  my  trust. 

It  occurred  to  me,  about  the  same  time,  that  my  young 
African  friend  was  a  sheep  of  another  more  distant  fold, 


THE   NEGEO   SERVANT.  138 

trhich  Christ  will  yet  bring  to  hear  his  voice..  For  there 
sQail  be  one  fold  and  one  Shepherd,  and  all  nations  shall 
be  brought  to  acknowledge  that  he  alone  "  restoreth  our 
souls,  and  l^adeth  us  into  the  paths  of  righteousness  for  his 
name's  sake."  On  the  left  hand  of  the  hill,  as  I  advanced 
eastward,  aikl  immediately  under  its  declivity,  extended  a 
beautiful  tract  ol  land  intersected  by  a  large  arm  of  the  sea, 
which  (as  the  tidw  was  fast  flowing  in)  formed  a  broad  lake  or 
haven  of  three  milos  in  length.  Woods,  villages,  cottages, 
and  churches,  surrounded  it  in  most  pleasing  variety  of 
prospect.  Beyono  tiiis  lay  a  large  fleet  of  ships  of  war,  and 
not  far  from  it  anothei  of  merchantmen,  both  safe  at  anchor, 
and  covering  a  tract  d'  *he  sea  of  several  miles  in  extent. 
Beyond  this  again,  J  BdsV  the  fortifications,  dock-yards,  and 
extensive  public  edificts  of  a  large  seaport  town.  The 
sun  shone  upon  the  winaowi  of  the  buildings  and  the  flags 
of  the  ships,  with  great  b)  tt^Ltness,  and  added  much  to  the 
splendor  of  the  view. 

I  thought  of  the  concerns  of  empires,  the  plans  of  states- 
men, the  fate  of  nations,  and  the  horrors  of  war.  Happy 
will  be  that  day,  when  He  sliall  make  wars  to  cease  unto 
the  end  of  the  earth,  and  peace  to  be  established  on  its 
borders ! 

In  the  mean  time  let  us  be  thankful  for  those  vessels 
and  instruments  of  defence,  which,  in  the  hands  of  God, 
preserve  our  country  from  the  hand  of  the  enemy  and  the 
fury  of  the  destroyer.  What,  thought  1,  do  we  not  owe  to  the 
exertions  of  the  numerous  crews  on  board  those  ships,  who 
leave  their  homes  to  fight  their  country's  battles,  and  main- 
tain its  cause,  whilst  we  sit  every  man  under  his  vine  and 
fig-tree,  tasting  the  sweets  of  a  tranquillity  unknown  to 
most  other  nations  in  these  days  of  conflict  and  bloodshed  ! 
12 


134  THE    NEGRO    SERVANT- 

On  my  right  hand,  to  the  south  and  southeast,  the  un- 
bounded ocean  displayed  its  mighty  waves.  It  was  covered 
with  vessels  of  every  size,  sailing  in  all  directions  :  some 
outward  bound  to  the  most  distant  parts  of  the  world ; 
others,  after  a  long  voyage,  returning  home,  laden  with  the 
produce  of  remote  climes :  some  going  forth  in  search  of 
the  enemy;  others  sailing  back  to  port  after  the  hard- 
fought  engagement,  and  bearing  the  trophies  of  victory  in 
the  prizes  which  accompanied  them  home. 

At  the  southwest  of  the  spot  on  which  I  was  riding, 
extended  a  beautiful  simicircular  bay,  of  about  nine  or  ten 
miles  in  circumference,  bounded  by  high  cliffs  of  white, 
red,  and  brown-colored  earths.  Beyond  this  lay  a  range 
of  hills,  whose  tops  are  often  buried  in  cloudy  mists,  but 
which  then  appeared  clear  and  distinct.  This  chain  of 
hills,  meeting  with  another  from  the  north,  bounds  a  large 
fruitful  vale,  whose  fields,  now  ripe  for  harvest,  proclaimed 
the  goodness  of  God  in  the  rich  provision  which  he  makes 
for  the  sons  of  men.  It  is  he  who  "  prepares  the  corn  ;  he 
crowns  the  year  with  his  goodness,  and  his  paths  drop  fat- 
ness. They  drop  upon  the  pastures  of  the  wilderness,  and 
the  little  hills  rejoice  on  every  side.  The  pastures  are 
clothed  with  flocks  ;  the  valleys  also  are  covered  over  with 
corn  :  they  shout  for  joy,  they  also  sing." 

,    .    .^    .    .    "  The  roving  sight 
Pursues  its  pleasing  course  o'er  neighboring  hills 
Of  many  a  different  form  and  different  hue; 
Bright  with  the  rip'ning  corn,  or  green  with  grass, 
Or  dark  witli  clover's  purple  bloom." 

As  I  looked  upon  the  numerous  ships  moving  before  me, 
I  remembered  the  words  of  the  Psalmist :  "  They  that  go 
down  to  the  sea  in  ships,  that  do  business  in  great  wa- 


THE   NEGRO    SERVANT.  135 

ters:  these  see  the  works  of  the  Lord,  and  his  won- 
ders in  the  deep.  For  he  commandeth  and  raiseth  the 
stormy  wind,  which  lifteth  up  the  waves  thereof.  They 
mount  up  to  the  heaven,  they  go  down  again  to  the  depths ; 
their  soul  is  melted  because  of  trouble.  They  reel  to  and 
fro,  and  stagger  like  a  drunken  man,  and  are  at  their  wit's 
end.  Then  they  cry  unto  the  Lord  in  their  trouble,  and 
he  bringeth  them  out  of  their  distresses.  He  maketh  the 
storm  a  calm,  so  that  the  waves  thereof  are  still.  Then 
are  they  glad  because  they  be  quiet ;  so  he  bringeth  them 
unto  tlieir  desired  haven.  Oh  that  men  would  praise  the 
Lord  for  his  goodness,  and  for  his  wonderful  works  to  the 
children  of  men." — (Psalm  cvii.) 

The  Negro  Servant  then  occurred  to  my  mind.  Per- 
haps, thought  I,  some  of  these  ships  are  bound  to  Africa, 
in  quest  of  that  most  infamous  object  of  merchandise,  a 
.  cargo  of  black  slaves.  Inhuman  traffic  for  a  nation  that 
bears  the  name  of  Christian  !  Perhaps  these  very  waves, 
which  are  now  dashing  on  the  rocks  at  the  foot  of  this 
hill,  have,  on  the  shores  of  Africa,  borne  witness  to  the 
horrors  of  forced  separation  between  wives  and  husbands, 
parents  and  children,  torn  asunder  by  merciless  men,  whose 
hearts  have  been  hardened  against  the  common  feeling 
of  humanity  by  long  custom  in  this  cruel  trade.  "  Bleysed 
arc  the  merciful,  for  they  shall  obtain  mercy."  When 
shall  the  endeavors  of  that  truly  Christian /7*7enc?  of  the  op- 
pressed negro  be  crowned  with  success,  in  the  abolition  of 
this  wicked  and  disgraceful  traffic  3* 

*  The  day  has  since  arrived,  when  the  persevering  efforts  of  Mr.  Wilber- 
force,  to  accomplish  this  happy  purpose,  have  been  fully  answered.  The 
slave  trade  is  abolished !  The  church  of  God  rejoices  at  tliis  triumph  of  the 
cause  of  Christ  over  the  powers  of  darkness. 


136  THE    NEGRO    SERVANT. 

As  1  pursued  the  meditations  which  this  magnificent 
and  varied  scenery  excited  in  my  mind,  I  approached  the 
edge  of  a  tremendous  perpendicular  cliif,  with  which  the 
down  terminates ;  I  dismounted  from  my  horse,  and  tied 
it  to  a  bush.  The  breaking  of  the  waves  against  the  foot 
of  the  cliff  at  so  great  a  distance  beneath  me,  produced  an 
incessant  and  pleasing  murmur.  The  sea-gulls  were  fly- 
ing between  the  top  of  the  cliff  where  I  stood,  and  the  rocks 
below,  attending  upon  their  nests,  built  in  the  holes  of  the 
cliff.  The  whole  scene  in  every  direction  was  grand  and 
impressive  :  it  was  suitable  to  devotion.  The  Creator  ap- 
peared in  the  works  of  his  creation,  and  called  upon  the 
creature  to  honor  and  adore.  To  the  believer,  this  exer- 
cise is  doubly  delightful.  He  possesses  a  right  to  the  en- 
joyment of  nature  and  Providence,  as  well  as  to  the  privi- 
leges of  grace.  His  title-deed  runs  thus:  "All  things 
are  yours ;  whether  Paul,  or  Apollos,  or  Cephas,  or  the 
world,  or  life,  or  death,  or  things  present,  or  things  to 
come  ;  all  are  yours ;  and  ye  are  Christ's,  and  Christ  is 
God's." 

I  cast  my  eyes  downward  a  little  to  the  left  towards  a 
small  cove,  the  shore  of  which  consists  of  fine  hard  sand. 
It  is  surrounded  by  fragments  of  rock,  chalk-cliffs,  and 
steep  banks  of  broken  earth.  Shut  out  from  human  inter- 
course and  dwellings,  it  seems  formed  for  retirement  and 
contemplation.  On  one  of  these  rocks  I  unexpectedly  ob- 
served a  man  sitting  with  a  book,  which  he  was  reading. 
The  place  was  near  two  hundred  yards  perpendicularly 
below  me,  but  I  soon  discovered  by  his  dress,  and  by  the 
black  color  of  his  features,  contrasted  with  the  w^hite  rocks 
beside  him,  that  it  was  no  other  than  my  negro  disciple, 
with,  as  I  doubted  not,  a  Bible  in  his  hand.     I  rejoiced  at 


THE    NEGRO    SERVANT. 


137 


this  unlooked-for  opportunity  of  meeting  him  in  so  solitary 
and  interesting  a  situation.  I  descended  a  steep  bank, 
winding  by  a  kind  of  rude  staircase,  formed  by  fishermen 
and  shepherds'  boys  in  the  side  of  the  cliff  down  to  the 
shore. 

He  was  intent  on  his  book,  and  did  not  perceive  me  till 
I  approached  very  near  to  hira. 

"  William,  is  that  you  ?" 

"  Ah !  Massa,  me  very  glad  to  see  you.  How  came 
Massa  into  dis  place  ]  Me  tought  nobody  here,  but  only 
God  and  me." 

"  I  was  coming  to  your  master's  house  to  see  you,  and 
rode  round  by  this  way  for  the  sake  of  the  prospect.  1  often 
come  here  in  fine  weather,  to  look  at  the  sea  and  the  ship- 
ping.   Is  that  your  Bible  3" 

"  Yes,  sir  ;*  dis  my  dear  goot  Bible." 

"  I  am  glad,"  said  I,  "to  see  you  so  well  employed.  It 
is  a  good  sign,  William." 

"  Yes,  Massa,  a  sign  that  God  is  goot  to  me ;  but  me 
never  goot  to  God." 

"How  so 3" 

"  Me  never  tank  him  enough :  me  never  pray  to  him 
enough :  me  never  remember  enough,  who  give  me  all 
dese  goot  tings.  Massa,  me  afraid  my  heart  is  very  bat. 
Me  wish  me  was  like  you." 

"  Like  me,  William  1  Why,  you  are  like  me,  a  poor, 
helpless  sinner,  that  must,  as  well  as  yourself,  perish  in 
his  sins,  unless  God,  of  his  infinite  mercy  and  grace,  pluck 

*  In  the  course  of  conversation,  he  sometimes  addressed  me  with  tlie  word 
"  Massa,"  for  "  Master,"  according  to  tlic  well-known  habit  of  the  negro  slavea 
in  the  West  Indies;  and  sometimes  "  Sir,"  as  he  was  taught  since  his  arrival 
in  England ;  but  the  former  word  seemed  to  be  most  familiar  to  him. 

12* 


138  TJIE    NEGRO    SERVANT. 

him  as  a  brand  from  the  burning,  and  make  him  an  in- 
stance of  distinguishing  love  and  favor.  There  is  no  dif- 
ference ;  we  have  both  come  short  of  the  glory  of  God : 
all  have  sinned." 

"  No,  me  not  like  you,  Massa :  me  tink  nobody  like  me, 
nobody  feel  such  a  heart  as  me." 

"  Yes,  William,  your  feelings,  I  am  persuaded,  are  like 
those  of  every  truly  convinced  soul,  who  sees  the  exceed- 
ing sinfulness  of  sin,  and  the  greatness  of  the  price  which 
Christ  Jesus  paid  for  the  sinner's  ransom.  You  can  say 
in  the  words  of  the  hymn, 

» I  the  chief  of  sinners  am, 
But  Jesus  died  for  me.' " 

"  O  yes,  sir,  me  believe  that  Jesus  died  for  poor  negro. 
What  would  become  of  poor  wicked  negro,  if  Christ  no 
die  for  him?  But  he  die  for  de  chief  of  sinners,  and  dat 
make  my  heart  sometime  quite  glad." 

"  What  part  of  the  Bible  were  you  reading,  William  ]" 

"  Me  read  how  de  man  upon  de  cross  spoke  to  Christ, 
and  Christ  spoke  to  him.  Now  dat  man's  prayer  just  do 
for  me  :  '  Lord,  remember  me.'  Lord,  remember  poor  ne- 
gro sinner :  dis  is  my  prayer  every  morning,  and  some- 
time at  night  too  ;  when  me  cannot  tink  of  many  words, 
den  me  say  de  same  again  ;  Lord,  remember  poor  negro 
sinner."  , 

"And  be  assured  William,  the  Lord  hears  that  prayer. 
He  pardoned  and  accepted  the  thief  upon  the  cross,  and 
he  will  not  reject  you  ;  he  will  in  no  wise  cast  out  any 
that  come  to  him." 

"No,  sir,  I  believe  it;  but  dere  is  so  much  sin  in  my 
heart,  it  make  me  afraid  and  sorry.    Massa,  do  you  see 


THE    NEGRO   SERVANT.  139 

dese  limpets,*  how  fast  dey  stick  to  de  rocks  here  1  Just 
60,  sin  stick  fast  to  my  heart." 

"  It  may  be  so,  William  :  but  take  another  comparison: 
do  you  cleave  to  Jesus  Christ  by  faith  in  his  death  and 
righteousness,  as  those  limpets  cleave  to  the  rock,  and 
neither  seas  nor  storms  shall  separate  you  from  his  love." 

"  Dat  is  just  what  me  want." 

"  Tell  me,  William,  is  not  that  very  sin  which  you  speak 
of,  a  burden  to  you  1  You  do  not  love  it ;  you  w^ould  be  glad 
to  obtain  strength  against  it,  and  to  be  freed  from  it ;  would 
you  not  r' 

"O  yes  ;  me  give  all  dis  world,  if  me  had  it,  to  be  with- 
out sin." 

"  Come  then,  and  welcome,  to  Jesus  Christ,  my  brother; 
his  blood  cleanseth  from  all  sin.  He  gave  himself  as  a 
ransom  for  sinners.  He  hath  borne  our  grief  and  carried 
our  sorrows.  He  was  wounded  for  our  transgressions  ; 
he  was  bruised  for  our  iniquities  ;  the  chastisement  of  our 
peace  was  upon  him,  and  with  his  stripes  we  are  healed. 
The  Lord  hath  laid  on  him  the  iniquity  of  us  all.  Come, 
freely  come  to  Jesus,  the  Saviour  of  sinners." 

"Yes,  Massa,"  said  the  poor  fellow,  weeping,  "me  will 
come :  but  me  come  very  slow ;  very  slow,  Massa,  me 
want  to  run,  me  want  to  fly.  Jesus  is  very  goot  to  poor 
negro,  to  send  you  to  tell  him  all  dis." 

"  But  this  is  not  the  first  time  you  have  heard  these 
truths  ]" 

"  No,  sir,  dey  have  been  comfort  to  my  soul  many  times, 
since  me  hear  goot  minister  preach  in  America,  as  me  tell 
you  last  week  at  your  house." 

*  A  kind  of  shell-fisli,  which  abound  in  the  place  where  we  were,  and 
which  stick  to  the  rocks  witli  exceeding  great  force. 


140  THE    ^■EGEO    SERVANT. 

"  Well,  now  I  hope,  William,  that  since  God  has  been 
so  graciously  pleased  to  open  your  eyes,  and  affect  your 
mind  with  such  a  gi-eat  sense  of  his  goodness,  in  giving  his 
Son  to  die  for  your  sake  ;  I  hope  that  you  do  your  endeav- 
or to  keep  his  commandments :  I  hope  you  strive  to  be- 
have well  to  your  master  and  mistress,  and  fellow-ser- 
vants. He  that  is  a  Christian  inwardly  will  be  a  Christian 
outwardly ;  he  that  truly  and  savingly  believes  in  Christ, 
will  show  his  faith  by  his  works,  as  the  Apostle  says.  Is 
it  not  so,  William  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  me  want  to  do  so.  Me  want  to  be  faithful. 
Me  sorry  to  tink  how  bat  servant  me  vras,  before  de  goot 
tings  of  Jesus  Christ  come  to  my  heart.  Me  wish  to  do 
well  to  my  Massa,  when  he  see  me  and  when  he  not  see 
me  ;  for  me  know  God  always  see  me.  Me  know,  dat  if 
me  sin  against  mine  own  Massa,  me  sin  against  God,  and 
God  be  very  angry  with  me.  Beside,  how  can  me  love 
Christ,  if  me  do  not  what  Christ  tell  me  ?  Me  love  my  fel- 
low-servants, dough,  as  I  tell  you  before,  dey  do  not  much 
love  me,  and  I  pray  God  to  bless  dem.  And  when  dey 
say  bat  things,  and  try  to  make  me  angry,  den  me  tink,  if 
Jesus  Christ  were  in  poor  negro's  place,  he  would  not  re- 
vile and  answer  again  with  bat  words  and  temper,  but  he 
say  little,  and  pray  aiuch.  And  so  den  me  say  noting  at 
all,  but  pray  to  God  to  forgive  dem." 

The  more  I  conversed  with  this  African  convert,  the 
more  satisfactory  were  the  evidences  of  his  mind  being 
spiritually  enlightened,  and  his  heart  effectually  wrought 
upon  by  the  grace  of  God. 

The  circumstances  of  the  place  in  which  we  met  toge- 
ther, contributed  much  to  the  interesting  effect  which  the 
conversation  produced  on  my  mind.   The  little  cove  or  bay 


THE   NEGRO    SERVANT.  141 

was  beautiful  in  the  extreme.  The  air  was  calm  and  se- 
rene.  The  sun  shone,  but  we  were  sheltered  from  its 
rays  by  the  cliffs.  One  of  these  was  stupendously  lofty 
and  large.  It  was  white  as  snow ;  its  summit  hung  di- 
rectly over  our  heads.  The  sea-fowl  were  flying  around 
it.  Its  whiteness  was  occasionally  checkered  with  dark- 
green  masses  of  samphire,  which  grew  there.  On  the 
other  side,  and  behind  us,  was  a  more  gradual  declivity  of 
many-colored  earths,  interspersed  with  green  patches  of 
grass  and  bushes,  and  little  streams  of  water  trickling 
down  the  bank,  and  mingling  with  the  sea  at  the  bottom. 
At  our  feet  the  waves  were  advancing  over  shelves  of 
rocks  covered  with  a  great  variety  of  sea-weeds,  which 
swam  in  little  fragments,  and  displayed  much  beauty  and 
elegance  of  form,  as  they  were  successively  thrown  upon 
the  sand. 

Ships  of  war  and  commerce  were  seen  at  different  dis- 
tances. Fishermen  were  plying  their  trade  in  boats  nearer 
the  shore.  The  noise  of  the  flowing  tide,  combined  with 
the  voices  of  the  sea-gulls  over  our  heads,  and  now  and 
then  a  distant  gun,  fired  from  the  ships  as  they  passed 
along,  added  much  to  the  peculiar  sensations  to  which  the 
scene  gave  birth.  Occasionally  the  striking  of  oars  upon 
the  waves,  accompanied  by  the  boatman's  song,  met  the 
ear.  The  sheep  aloft  upon  the  down  sometimes  mingled 
their  bleatings  with  the  other  sounds.  Thus  all  nature 
seemed  to  unite  in  impressing  an  attentive  observer's  heart 
with  affecting  thoughts. 

I  remained  for  a  considerable  time  in  conversation  with 
the  negro,  finding  that  his  master  was  gone  from  home  for 
the  day,  and  had  given  him  liberty  for  some  hours.  I  spoke 
to  liim  on  the  nature,  duty,  and  privilege  of  ('hristian  bap- 


142  THE    NEGKO    SERYA>'T. 

tism ;  pointed  out  to  hira,  from  a  prayer-book  which  I  had 
with  me,  the  clear  and  scriptural  principles  of  our  own 
church  upon  that  head,  and  found  that  he  was  very  desir- 
ous of  conforming  to  them.  He  appeared  to  me  to  be  wel 
qualified  for  receiving  that  sacramental  pledge  of  his  Re- 
deemer's love  ;  and  I  rejoiced  in  the  prospect  of  beholding 
him  no  longer  a  "  stranger  and  foreigner,  but  a  fellow- 
citizen  with  the  saints,  and  of  the  household  of  God." 

"  God,"  said  I  to  him,  "  has  promised  to  '  sprinkle  many 
nations,'  not  only  with  the  waters  of  baptism,  but  also  with 
the  dews  of  his  heavenly  grace.  He  says,  he  will  not  only 
*pour  water  on  him  that  is  thirsty,'  but,  'I  will  pour  my 
Spirit  upon  thy  seed,  and  my  blessing  upon  thine  off- 
spring.' " 

"  Yes,  Massa,"  said  he,  "  he  can  make  me  to  be  clean 
in  heart,  and  of  a  right  spirit ;  he  can  purge  me  wid  hys- 
sop, and  I  shall  be  clean ;  he  can  wash  me,  and  I  shall  be 
whiter  dan  snow." 

"  May  God  give  you  these  blessings,  and  confirm  you  in 
every  good  gift  I" 

I  was  much  pleased  with  the  affectionate  manner  in 
which  he  spoke  of  his  parents,  from  whom  he  had  been 
stolen  in  his  childhood :  and  his  wishes  that  God  might 
direct  them  by  some  means  to  the  knowledge  of  a  Sa- 
viour. 

"  Who  knows,"  I  sai-d,  "but  some  of  these  ships  may  be 
carrying  a  missionary  to  the  country  where  they  live,  to 
declare  the  good  news  of  salvation  to  your  countrymen, 
and  to  your  own  dear  parents  in  particular,  if  they  are  yet 
ahve  3" 

"  O  !  my  dear  fader  and  moder :  my  dear  gracious  Sa- 
viour," exclaimed  he,  leaping  from  the  ground  as  he  spoke, 


THE    NEGRO    SERVANT.  143 

"  if  thou  wilt  but  save  deir  souls,  and  tell  dera  what  dou 
hast  done  for  sinner — but — " 

He  stopped  and  seemed  much  affected. 

"My  friend,"  said  I,  "I  will  now  pray  with  you  for 
your  own  soul,  and  for  those  of  your  parents  also." 

"  Do,  Massa,  dat  is  very  good  and  kind ;  do  pray  for 
poor  negro  souls  here  and  everywhere." 

This  was  a  new  and  solemn  "house  of  prayer."  The 
sea-sand  was  our  floor,  the  heavens  were  our  roof,  the 
clifTs,  the  rocks,  the  hills,  and  the  waves,  formed  the  walls 
of  our  chamber.  It  was  not  indeed  a  "  place  where  prayer 
was  wont  to  be  made  ;"  but  for  this  once  it  became  a  hal- 
lowed spot ;  it  will,  by  me,  ever  be  remembered  as  such. 
The  presence  of  God  was  there — I  prayed. — The  Negro 
wept. — His  heart  was  full.  I  felt  with  him,  and  could  not 
but  weep  likewise. 

The  last  day  will  show  whether  our  tears  were  not  the 
tears  of  sincerity  and  Christian  love. 

It  was  time  for  my  return  :  I  leaned  upon  his  arm,  as 
we  ascended  the  steep  cliff  in  my  way  back  to  my  horse, 
which  I  had  left  at  the  top  of  the  hill.  Humility  and 
thankfulness  were  marked  in  his  countenance.  I  leaned 
upon  his  arm  with  the  feelings  of  a  brother.  It  was  a  re- 
lationship I  was  happy  to  own. — I  took  him  by  the  hand  at 
parting,  appointed  one  more  interview  previous  to  tlie  daj 
of  baptizing  him,  and  bade  him  farewell  for  the  present. 

"  God  bless  you,  my  dear  Massa !" 

"  And  you,  my  fell«w  Christian,  for  ever  and  ever." 


144  THE   KEGKO    SERVAT^T. 


PART  III. 


The  interesting  and  affecting  conversation  which  I  had 
with  the  Negro  Servant,  produced  a  sensation  not  easy  to 
be  expressed.  As  I  returned  home,  I  was  led  into  medita- 
tion on  the  singular  clearness  and  beauty  of  those  evi- 
dences of  faith  and  conversion  of  heart  to  God,  which  I 
had  just  seen  and  heard.  How  plainly,  I  thought,  it  ap- 
pears, that  salvation  is  "  freely  by  grace  through  faith ; 
and  that  not  of  ourselves  ;  it  is  the  gift  of  God ;  not  of 
works,  lest  any  man  should  boast."  What  but  the  Holy 
Spirit,  who  is  the  author  and  giver  of  the  life  of  grace, 
could  have  wrought  such  a  change  from  the  once  dark, 
perverse,  and  ignorant  heathen,  to  this  now  convinced, 
enlightened,  humble,  and  believing  Christian  ?  How 
manifestly  is  the  uncontrolled  sovereignty  of  the  divine 
will  exercised  in  the  calling  and  translating  of  sinners 
from  darkness  to  light !  what  a  lesson  may  the  nominal 
Christian  of  a  civilized  country  sometimes  learn  from  the 
simple,  sincere  religion  of  a  converted  heathen  I 

I  afterward  made,  particular  inquiry  into  this  young 
man's  domestic  and  general  deportment.  Every  thing  I 
heard  was  satisfactory ;  nor  could  I  entertain  a  doubt  re- 
specting the  consistency  of  his  conduct  and  character.  I 
had  some  further  conversations  with  him,  in  the  course  of 
which  I  pursued  such  a  plan  of  scriptural  instruction  and 
examination,  as  I  conceived  to  be  the  most  suitable  to  his 
progressive  state  of  mind.  He  improved  much  in  reading, 
carried  his  Bible  constantly  with  him,  and  took  every  op- 
portunity, which  his  duty  to  his  master's  service  would 


THE   NEGRO    SERVANT. 


1^ 


allow,  for  perusing  it.  I  have  frequently  had  occasion  to- 
observe,  that  amongst  the  truly  religious  poor,  who  have* 
not  had  the  advantage  of  being  taught  to  read  in  early 
youth,  a  concern  about  the  soul,  and  a  desire  to  know  the 
word  of  God,  have  proved  effectual  motives  for  their  learn- 
ing to  read  with  great  ease  and  advantage  to  themselves 
and  others.     It  was  strikingly  so  in  the  present  case. 

I  had,  for  a  considerable  time,  been  accustomed  to  meet 
some  serious  persons  once  a  week,  in  a  cottage  at  no  great 
distance  from  the  house  where  he  lived,  for  the  purpose 
of  religious  conversation,  instruction,  and  prayer.  Having 
found  these  occasions  remarkably  useful  and  interesting,  J 
thought  it  would  be  very  desirable  to  take  the  Negro 
there,  in  order  that  there  might  be  other  witnesses  to  the 
simplicity  and  sincerity  of  real  Christianity,  as  exhibited 
in  the  character  of  this  promising  young  convert.  I  hoped 
it  might  prove  an  eminent  mean  of  grace  to  excite  and' 
quicken  the  spirit  of  prayer  and  praise  amongst  some  of 
my  parishioners,  over  whose  spiritual  progress  I  was 
anxiously  watching. 

I  accordingly  obtained  his  master's  leave  that  he  should 
attend  me  to  one  of  my  cottage  assemblies.  His  mastery 
who  was  thoroughly  convinced  of  the  extraordinary  change, 
in  conduct  and  disposition,  which  religion  had  produced  in 
his  servant,  was  pleased  with  my  attention  to  him,  and 
always  spoke  well  of  his  behavior. 

I  set  out  on  the  day  appointed  for  the  interview.  The 
cottage  at  which  we  usually  assembled  was  near  four 
miles  distant  from  my  own  residence  ;  my  road  lay  along 
the  foot  of  the  hill  mentioned  in  my  last  account  of  the 
Negro,  from  the  summit  of  which  so  luxuriant  a  prospect 
was  seen.  On  ray  right  hand  the  steep  acclivity  of  the 
13 


146 


THE    NEGKO    SERVANT. 


hill  intercepted  all  prospect,  except  that  of  numerous  sheep 
feeding  on  its  rich  and  plentiful  produce.  Here  and  there 
the  nearly  perpendicular  side  of  a  chalk-pit  varied  the 
surface  of  the  hill,  contrasting  a  dazzling  white  to  the 
sober  green  of  the  surrounding  bank. 

On  the  left  hand,  at  the  distance  of  near  half  a  mile, 
the  tide  flowed  from  the  sea  into  a  lake  or  haven  of  con- 
siderable length  and  breadth.  At  one  end  of  it,  fishing 
and  pilot  vessels  lay  at  anchor ;  at  the  other  appeared  the 
parish  church  amongst  the  adjoining  woods  and  fields. 
The  bells  v.-ere  ringing:  a  gently  swelling  sound  was 
brought  along  the  surface  of  the  water,  and  an  echo  re- 
turned from  a  prominent  part  of  the  hill,  beneath  which  I 
was  riding-     The  whole  scene  was  delightful. 

I  passed  some  rural  and  beautifully  situated  cottages, 
which  seemed  to  be  formed  as  fit  residences  for  peace  and 
tranquillity;  each  was  surrounded  by  a  garden,  and  each 
had  a  little  orchard  or  field  adjacent,  where  the  husband- 
man's cov."  enjoyed  her  own  pasture,  and  at  the  same  time 
prepared  rich  provision  for  her  owner's  family.  Such  was 
the  wise  and  considerate  allotment  which  the  landlords 
and  farmers  had  liere  made  for  the  laboring  poor.  The 
wholesome  vegetable,  the  medicinal  herb,  and  the  sweet- 
scented  flower  intermingled  as  they  grew  around  these 
little  dv.-ellings,  and  reminded  me,  as  I  looked  upon  them, 
how  comfortable  is  the  lot  of  the  industrious  poor,  whose 
hearts  have  learned  the  lesson  of  gratitude,  in  the  school 
uf  heaf.enly  wisdom.  For  them,  as  mercifully  as  for  their 
richest  neighbor,  the  sun  shines,  the  rain  descends,  the 
earth  brings  forth  her  increase,  the  flower  blossoms,  the 
birds  sing ;  their  wants  are  few,  and  contentment  makes 
them  less.    How  great  the  blessings  of  being  poor  in  thig 


THE    NEGRO    SERVANT.  147 

world,  but  rich  in  faith,  and  a  chosen  inheritance  in  a 
better ! 

I  knew  that  this  was  the  character  of  some  whose  hum- 
ble, but  neat  and  cleanly  cottages  I  passed.  A  few  such 
features  in  the  prospect  rendered  it  most  lovely.  Peace 
be  to  their  memory,  both  as  pilgrims  and  strangers  here ; 
and  as  ransomed  souls,  whom  I  hope  to  meet  in  glory  here- 
after !  J 

The  house  to  which  I  was  travelling  was  situated  at  the 
corner  of  an  oak  wood,  which  screened  it  both  from  the 
burning  heat  of  summer  suns  and  the  heavy  blasts  of 
winter  southwest  storms.  As  I  approached  it,  I  saw  my 
friend  the  Negro  sitting  under  a  tree,  and  waiting  my  ar- 
rival. He  held  in  his  hand  a  little  tract  which  I  had 
given  him  ;  his  Bible  lay  on  the  ground.  He  rose  with 
much  cheerfulness,  saying,  "  Ah,  Massa,  me  very  glad  to 
see  you  ;  me  tink  you  long  time  coming." 

"  William,  I  hope  you  are  well.  I  am  going  to  take 
you  with  me  to  a  few  of  my  friends,  who,  I  trust,  are  truly 
sincere  in  their  religious  pursuits.  We  meet  every  Wed- 
nesday evening  for  conversation  about  the  things  that 
belong  to  our  everlasting  peace,  and  I  am  sure  you  will 
be  a  welcome  visiter." 

"  Massa,  me  not  goot  enough  to  be  with  such  goot  peo- 
ple.    Me  great  sinner.     Dey  be  goot  Christian." 

"If  you  were  to  ask  them,  William,  they  would  each 
tell  you  they  were  worse  than  others.  Many  of  them 
were  once,  and  that  not  very  long  ago,  living  in  an  openly 
sinful  manner,  ignorant  of  God,  and  the  enemies  of  Jesus 
Christ  by  thought  and  deed.  But  divine  grace  stopped 
them  in  their  wicked  course,  and  subdued  their  hearts  to 
the  love  and  obedience  of  him  and  his  gospel.     You  will 


148  THE   NEGRO    SERVANT. 

only  meet  a  company  of  poor  fellow-sinners,  who  love  to 
speak  and  sing  the  praises  of  redeeming  love  ;  and  I  am 
sure,  William,  that  is  a  song  in  which  you  will  be  willing 
to  join  them." 

"  O  !  yes,  sir  ;  dat  song  just  do  for  poor  Negro." 

By  this  time  we  had  arrived  at  the  cottage  garden  gate. 
Several  well-known  faces  appeared  in  and  near  the  house, 
and  the  smile  of  affection  welcomed  us  as  we  entered.  It 
was  known  that  the  Negro  was  to  visit  the  little  society 
this  evening,  and  satisfaction  beamed  on  every  counte- 
nance, as  I  took  him  by  the  hand  and  introduced  him 
among  them,  saying,  "  I  have  brought  a  brother  from  Af- 
rica to  see  you,  my  friends.  Bid  him  welcome  in  the 
name  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ." 

"  Sir,"  said  an  humble  and  pious  laborer,  whose  heart 
and  tongue  always  overflowed  with  Christian  kindness, 
"we  are  at  all  times  glad  to  see  our  dear  minister,  but  es- 
pecially so  to-day  in  such  company  as  you  have  brought 
with  you.  We  have  heard  how  merciful  the  Lord  has 
been  to  him.  Give  me  your  hand,  good  friend,  (turning 
to  the  Negro.)  God  be  with  you  hero  and  everywhere  ; 
and  blessed  be  his  holy  name  for  calling  sinners,  as  I  hope 
lie  has  done  you  and  me,  to  love  and  serve  him  for  his 
mercy's  sake." 

Each  one  greeted  him  as  he  came  into  the  house,  and 
some  addressed  him  in  very  kind  and  impressive  lan- 
guage. 

"  Massa,"  said  he,  "  me  not  know  what  to  say  to  all 
dese  goot  friends  ;  me  tink  dis  look  a  little  like  heaven 
upon  earth." 

He  then,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  which  almost,  l»efore  he 
spoke,  brought  responsive  drops  into  those  of  many  pres- 


THE    NEGRO    SERVANT.  M|9 

ent,  said,  "  Goot  friends  and  bredren  in  Christ  Jesus,  Got 
bless  you  all,  and  bring  you  to  heaven  at  de  last." 

It  was  rny  stated  custom,  when  I  met  to  converse  with 
these  cottagers,  to  begin  with  prayer  and  reading  a  portion 
of  the  scriptures. 

When  this  was  ended,  I  told  the  people  present,  that 
the  providence  of  God  had  placed  this  young  man  for  a 
time  under  my  ministry  ;  and  that,  finding  him  seriously 
disposed,  and  believing  him  to  be  very  sincere  in  his  reli- 
gious profession,  I  had  resolved  on  baptizing  him  agreea- 
bly to  his  own  wishes.  I  added,  that  I  had  now  brought 
him  with  me  to  join  in  Christian  conversation  with  us  ; 
for,  as  in  old  times  they  that  feared  the  Lord  spake  often 
one  to  another,  in  testimony  that  they  thought  upon  his  name, 
(Mai.  iii,  16,)  so  I  hoped  we  were  fulfilling  a  Christian  and 
brotherly  duty  in  thus  assembling  for  mutual  edification. 

Addressing  myself  to  the  Negro,  I  said,  "  William,  tell 
me  who  made  you." 

"  Got,  the  goot  Fader." 

"  Who  redeemed  you  ?" 

"Jesus,  his  dear  son,  who  died  for  me." 

"  Who  sanctified  you  ?" 

"The  Holy  Ghost,  who  teach  me  to  know  de  goot 
Fader,  and  his  dear  Son  Jesus." 

"  What  was  your  state  by  nature  ?" 

"  Me  wicked  sinner,  me  know  noting  but  sin,  me  do 
noting  but  sin,  rny  soul  more  black  dan  my  body." 

"  Has  any  change  taken  place  in  you  since  then  ?" 

"  Me  hope  so,  Massa,  but  me  sometiiiie  afraid  no." 

"  If  you  are  changed,  who  changed  you  ?" 

"  Got,  de  goot  Fader ;  Jesus,  his  dear  son  ;  and  Got,  de 
Holy  Spirit." 

13* 


150  THE    >'EGRO    SERVANT. 

"How  was  any  change  broug-ht  about  in  you  ?" 

«'  Got  make  me  a  slave,  when  me  was  young  little  boy." 

"  How  William,  would  you  say,  God  made  you  a 
slave  r' 

"  No,  massa,  no  :  me  mean,  Got  let  me  be  made  slave 
by  white  men,  to  do  me  goot." 

"  How  to  do  you  good  ?" 

"  He  take  me  from  de  land  of  darkness,  and  bring  me  to 
de  land  of  light." 

"  Which  do  you  call  the  land  of  light :  the  West  India 
Islands  ?" 

"  No,  Massa,  dey  be  de  land  of  Providence,  but  America 
be  de  laud  of  light  to  me  ;  for  dere  me  first  hear  goot  min- 
ister preach.  And  now  dis  place  where  I  am  now,  is  de 
land  of  more  light ;  for  here  you  teach  me  more  and  more 
how  goot  Jesus  is  to  sinners." 

"  What  does  the  blood  of  Clu-ist  do  ? 

"  It  cleanse  from  all  sin  :  and  so  me  hope  from  my  sin." 

"  Are  then  all  men  cleansed  from  sin  by  his  blood  V* 

"  O  no,  Massa." 

"  Who  are  cleansed  and  saved  ]" 

"  Dose  dat  have  faith  in  him." 

"  Can  you  prove  that  out  of  the  Bible  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir :  '  He  dat  believeth  on  de  son,  hath  everlast- 
ing life;  and  he  dat  believeth  not  de  Son,  shall  not  see 
life,  but  de  wrath  of  Got  abideth  on  him.' "  (John  iii.  36.) 

"  What  is  it  to  have  faith  ?" 

"  Me  suppose  dat  it  is  to  tink  much  about  Jesus  Christ, 
to  love  him  much,  to  believe  all  he  says  to  be  true,  to  pray 
to  hira  very  much  ;  and  when  we  feel  very  weak  and  very 
sinful,  to  tink  dat  he  is  very  stiong  and  very  goot,  and  all 
dat  for  my  sake.*' 


THE    NEGRO    SERVANT.  151 

"  And  have  you  such  a  faith  as  you  describe  ?" 

"  O  Massa  !  me  tink  sometimes  me  have  no  faith  at  all." 

"Why  so,  William ]" 

"  When  me  want  to  tink  about  Jesus  Christ,  my  mind 
run  about  after  oder  things  :  when  me  want  to  love  him, 
my  heart  soon  quite  cold  ;  when  me  want  to  believe  all  to 
be  true  what  he  says  to  sinners,  me  den  tink  it  is  not  true 
for  me ;  when  me  want  to  pray,  de  devil  put  bat,  very  bat 
thoughts  into  me,  and  me  never  tank  Christ  enough.  Now 
all  dis  make  me  sometime  afraid  I  have  no  faith." 

I  observed  a  very  earnest  glow  of  attention  and  fellow- 
feeling  in  some  countenances  present,  as  he  spoke  these 
words.     I  then  said, 

"  I  think,  William,  I  can  prove  that  you  have  faith,  not- 
withstanding your  fears  to  the  contrary.  Answer  me  a 
few  more  questions. 

"Did  you  begin  to  think  yourself  a  great  sinner,  and  to 
feel  the  want  of  a  Saviour,  of  your  own  self,  and  by  your 
own  thought  and  doing  ]" 

"  O  !  no  ;  it  came  to  me,  when  me  tink  noting  about 
it,  and  seek  noting  about  it." 

"  Who  sent  the  goot  minister  in  America  to  awaken 
your  soul  by  his  preaching?" 

"  Got,  very  certainly." 

"  Who  then  began  the  work  of  serious  thought  in  your 
mind?" 

"  De  goot  Got ;  me  could  not  do  it  of  myself,  me  sure  of 
dat." 

"  Do  you  not  think  that  Jesus  Christ  and  his  salvation 
is  the  one  thing  most  needful  and  most  desirable  ?" 

"  O  !  yes,  me  quite  sure  of  dat." 

"Do  you  not  believe  that  he  is  able  to  save  you  V 


152  THE    NEGRO    SERVANT. 

"  Yes,  he  is  able  to  save  to  de  uttermost." 

"  Do  you  think  he  is  not  willing  to  save  you  ?" 

"  Me  dare  not  say  dat.  He  is  so  goot,  so  merciful,  so 
kind,  to  say,  he  will  in  no  wise  cast  out  any  dat  come  to  him." 

"  Do  you  wish,  and  desire,  and  strive  to  keep  his  com- 
mandments V 

"  Yes,  Massa,  because  rae  love  him,  and  dat  make  me 
want  to  do  as  he  say." 

"  Are  you  willing-  to  suffer  for  his  sake,  if  God  should 
call  you  to  do  so  !" 

"  Me  do  tink  me  could  die  for  de  love  of  him  :  he  not 
tink  it  too  much  to  die  for  wicked  sinner  ;  why  should 
wicked  sinner  tink  it  much  to  die  for  so  goot  and  righteous 
a  Saviour  ?" 

"  I  think  and  hope  I  may  say  to  you,  William,  Thy  faith 
hath  made  thee  whole." 

Thus  ended  my  examination  for  the  present.  The  other 
friends  who  were  in  the  house  listened  with  the  most  af- 
fectionate anxiety  to  all  that  passed.  One  of  them  ob- 
served, not  without  evident  emotion, 

"  I  see,  sir,  that  though  some  men  are  white,  and  some 
are  black,  true  Christianity  is  all  of  one  color.  My  own 
heart  has  gone  with  this  good  man  every  word  he  has 
spoken." 

"And  so  has  mine,"  gently  re-echoed  from  every  part 
of  the  room. 

After  some  time  passed  in  more  general  conversation 
on  the  subject  of  the  Negro's  history,  I  said,  "  Let  us 
now  praise  God  for  the  rich  and  unspeakable  gift  of  his 
grace,  and  sing  the  hymn  of  redeeming  love — 

Now  begin  the  heavenlj'  theme, 
Sing  aloud  in  Jcsu's  name,"  &c 


THE    NEGRO    SERVANT.  1^ 

which  was  accordingly  done.  Whatever  might  be  the 
merit  of  the  natural  voices,  it  was  evident  there  was 
spiritual  melody  in  all  their  hearts. 

The  Negro  was  not  much  used  to  our  way  of  singing, 
yet  joined  w^ith  great  earnestness  and  affection,  that  showed 
how  truly  he  felt  what  he  uttered.  When  the  fifth  verse 
was  ended. 

Nothing  brought  him  from  above, 
Nothing  but  redeeming  love ; 

he  repeated  the  words,  almost  unconscious  where  he  was. 

"  No,  noting,  noting  but  redeeming  love,  bring  him  down 
to  poor  William  ;  noting  but  redeeming  love." 

The  following  verses  were  added,  and  sung  by  way  of 
conclusion  : — 

See,  a  stranger  comes  to  view ; 
Though  he's  blacit,*  he's  comely  too ; 
Comes  to  join  the  choirs  above, 
Singing  of  redeeming  love. 

Welcome,  Negro,  welcome  here. 
Banish  doubt  and  banish  fear ; 
You,  who  Christ's  salvation  prove. 
Praise  and  bless  redeeming  love. 

I  concluded  with  some  remarks  on  the  nature  of  salva- 
tion by  grace,  exhorting  all  present  to  press  forward  in 
the  heavenly  journey.  It  was  an  evening,  the  circum- 
stances of  which,  had  they  never  been  recorded  on  earth, 
were  yet  doubtless  registered  in  the  book  of  remembrance 
above. 

I  then  fixed  thr*  ilay  for  the  baptism  of  the  Negro,  and 
80  took  leave  of  my  little  afTectionate  circle. 

*  Song  of  Solomon  i.  5 


154  THE    NEGRO    SERVANT. 

The  moon  shone  bright  as  I  returned  home,  and  was 
beautifully  reflected  from  the  waters  of  the  lake  ;  harmony 
and  repose  characterized  the  scene.  I  had  just  been 
uniting  in  the  praises  of  the  God  of  grace  and  providence , 
and  now  the  God  of  nature  demanded  a  fresh  tribute  of 
thanksgiving  for  the  beauties  and  comforts  of  creation  : 
as  David  sang,  "  When  I  consider  thy  heavens,  the  work 
of  thy  fingers,  the  moon  and  the  stars  which  thou  hast 
ordained  :  what  is  man  that  thou  art  mindful  of  him,  or 
the  son  of  man  that  thou  visitest  him  ]" 

In  a  few  days  the  Negro  was  baptized  :  and  not  long 
after  went  on  a  voyage  with  his  master. 

Since  that  time  I  have  not  been  able  to  hear  any  tidings 
of  him  ;  whether  he  yet  wanders  as  a  pilgrim  in  this  lower 
world,  or  whether  he  has  joined  the  heavenly  choir  in  the 
song  of  "  redeeming  love"  in  glory,  I  know  not.  This  I 
do  know,  he  was  a  monument  to  the  Lord's  praise.  He 
bore  the  impression  of  the  Saviour's  image  on  his  heart, 
and  exhibited  the  marks  of  divine  grace  in  his  life  and 
conversation,  with  sing-ular  simplicity,  and  unfeigned  sin- 
cerity. 

Give  to  God  the  glory. 


THE    NEGRO    SERVANT.  1&6 


My  interviews  with  the  Negro  suggested  the  following 
lines,  which  are  here  subjoined,  under  the  title  of 

THE  NEGRO'S  PRAYER. 

Jesus,  who  mak'st  the  meanest  soul 

An  object  of  thy  care, 
Attend  to  what  my  heart  would  speak — 

Hear  a  poor  Negro's  prayer. 

For  tliou,  when  bleeding  on  the  cross, 

Mv  sins  and  griefs  didst  bear; 
Wherefore,  my  Lord,  thou'lt  not  refuse 

To  hear  the  Negro's  prayer. 

I  was  a  helpless  Negro  boy, 

That  wandered  on  the  shore : 
Thieves  took  me  from  my  parent's  arms 

They  saw  their  child  no  more. 

And  yet  the  lot  which  seemed  so  hard 

God's  faithfulness  did  prove ; 
For  I  was  carried  far  from  honcc, 

To  learn  a  Saviour's  love. 

Poor  and  despised  though  1  was. 

Thine  arm,  O  God  !  was  nigh , 
And  when  thy  mercy  rirst  I  knew, 

Sure  none  so  glad  as  (. 

lu  ign'rance  long  my  soul  had  dwelt, 

A  rebel  bold  I'd  been ; 
But  thy  great  goodness,  O  my  God ! 

Sav'd  me  from  all  my  sin. 

Mine  was  a  wretched  state,  expos  A 

To  men  and  angels'  view ; 
A  slave  to  man,  a  slave  to  sin, 

A  slave  to  Satan  too. 


156  THE    NEGRO   SERVANT. 

But  if  tliy  Son  hath  made  me  free, 

Then  am  I  free  indeed  ; 
From  powers  of  darkness,  sin,  and  hell, 

Thy  love  my  soul  has  freed. 

Lord,  send  thy  word  to  that  far  land, 
Wliere  none  but  Negroes  live ; 

Teach  them  tlie  way,  the  truth,  the  hfc, 
Which  thou  alone  canst  give. 

0 1  that  ray  father,  motlier  dear, 
Might  there  thy  mercy  see ; 

Tell  them  what  Clirist  has  done  for  tJieia, 
What  Christ  has  done  for  me. 

Whose  God  is  like  tlie  Christian's  God? 

Who  can  with  him  compare  1 
He  hath  compassion  on  my  soul, 

And  hears  a  Negro's  prayer. 

Lord  Jesus,  thuu  hast  shed  thy  blood 
For  thousands  such  as  me ; 

Though  some  despise  poor  Negro  slave, 
I'm  not  despis'd  by  thee. 

This  is  my  heart's  first  wish  below, 
To  prove  thy  constant  care ; 

Keep  me  from  sin  and  danger,  Lord, 
And  hear  a  Negro's  prayer. 

In  heav'n  the  land  of  glory  liesj 

If  I  should  enter  there, 
I'H  tell  the  saints  and  angels  too 

Thou  heard'st  a  Negro's  prayer. 

14 


KNV   OF   THE   MEORO   SKAVAIIf. 


THE 


YOUNG    COTTAGER 


PART  I. 


When  a  serious  Christian  turns  his  attention  to  the 
barren  state  of  the  wilderness  through  which  be  is  travel- 
ling, frequently  must  he  heave  a  sigh  for  the  sins  and  sor- 
rows of  his  fellow  mortals.  The  renewed  heart  thirsts 
with  holy  desire,  that  the  Paradise,  which  was  lost  through 
Adam,  may  be  fully  regained  in  Christ.  But  the  over- 
flowings of  sin  within  and  without,  the  contempt  of  sacred 
institutions,  the  carelessness  of  soul,  the  pride  of  unbelief, 
the  eagerness  of  sensual  appetite,  the  ambition  for  worldly 
greatness,  and  the  deep-rooted  enmity  of  the  carnal  heart 
against  God :  these  things  are  as  "  the  fiery  serpents  and 
scorpions,  and  drought,"  which  distress  his  soul,  as  he 
journeys  through  "that  great  and  terrible  wilderness." 

Sometimes,  like  a  solitary  pilgrim,  he  "weeps  in  secret 
places,"  and  "rivers  of  waters  run  down  his  eyes,  because 
men  keep  not  the  law  of  God." 

Occasionally  he  meets  with  a  few  fellow-travellers, 
whose  spirit  is  congenial  with  his  own,  and  with  whom  he 
14 


159  THE   YOUNG    COTTAGER. 

can  take  "sweet  counsel  together."  They  comfort  and 
strengthen  each  other  by  the  way.  Each  can  relate  some- 
thing of  the  mercies  of  his  God,  and  how  kindly  they  have 
been  dealt  with,  as  they  travelled  onward.  The  dreari- 
ness of  the  path  is  thus  beguiled,  and  now  and  then,  for 
awhile,  happy  experiences  of  the  divine  consolation  cheer 
their  souls  ;  "the  wilderness  and  the  solitary  place  is  glad 
for  them ;  the  desert  rejoices  and  blossoms  as  the  rose." 

But  even  at  the  very  time  when  the  Christian  is  taught 
to  feel  the  peace  of  God  which  passeth  all  understanding, 
to  trust  that  he  is  personally  interested  in  the  blessings 
of  salvation,  and  to  believe  that  God  will  promote  his  own 
glory  by  glorifying  the  penitent  sinner  ;  yet  sorrows  will 
mingle  with  his  comforts,  and  he  will  rejoice  not  without 
trembling,  when  he  reflects  on  the  state  of  other  men. 
The  anxieties  connected  with  earthly  relations  are  all 
alive  in  his  soul,  and,  through  the  operation  of  the  Spirit 
of  God,  become  sanctified  principles  and  motives  for  action. 
As  the  husband  and  father  of  a  family,  as  the  neighbor  of 
the  poor,  the  ignorant,  the  wicked,  and  the  wretched ; 
above  all,  as  the  spiritual  overseer  of  the  flock,  if  such  be 
his  holy  calling,  the  heart  which  has  been  taught  to  feel 
for  its  own  case,  will  abundantly  feel  for  others. 

But  when  he  attempts  to  devise  means  in  order  to  stem 
the  torrent  of  iniquit)%  to  instruct  the  ignorant,  and  to  con- 
vert the  sinner  from  the  error  of  his  way,  he  cannot  help 
crying  out,  "  Who  is  sufficient  for  these  things  3"  Unbe- 
lief passes  over  the  question,  and  trembles.  But  faith 
quickly  revives  the  inquirer  with  the  cheerful  assurance, 
that  "  our  sufficiency  is  of  God,"  and  saith,  "  Commit  thy 
way  unto  the  Lord,  and  he  shall  bring  it  to  pass." 

When  he  is  thus  affectionately  engaged  for  the  good  of 


I 


THE   YOUNG    COTTAGEK.  159 

mankind,  he  will  become  seriously  impressed  with  the 
Jiecessity  of  early  attentions  to  the  young  in  particular. 
Many  around  him  are  grown  gray-headed  in  sin,  and  give 
bat  little  prospect  of  amendment.  Many  of  the  parents 
and  heads  of  families  are  so  eagerly  busied  in  the  profits, 
pleasures,  and  occupations  of  the  world,  that  they  heed  not 
the  warning  voice  of  their  instructor.  Many  of  their  elder 
children  are  launching  out  into  life,  headstrong,  unruly, 
"earthly,  sensual,  devilish ;"  they  likewise  treat  the  wis- 
dom of  God  as  if  it  were  foolishness.  But,  under  these 
discouragements,  we  may  often  turn  with  hope  to  tlie  very 
young,  to  the  little  ones  of  the  flock,  and  endeavor  to  teach 
them  to  sing  Hosannas  to  the  son  of  David,  before  their 
minds  are  wholly  absorbed  in  the  world  and  its  allure- 
ments. We  may  trust  that  a  blessing  shall  attend  such 
labors,  if  undertaken  in  faith  and  simplicity,  and  that  some 
at  least  of  our  youthful  disciples,  like  Josiah,  while  they 
are  yet  young,  may  begin  to  seek  after  the  God  of  their 
fathers. 

Such  an  employment,  especially  when  blessed  by  any 
actual  instances  of  real  good  produced,  enlivens  the  mind 
with  hops,  and  fills  it  with  gratitude.  We  are  thence  led 
to  trust  that  the  next  generation  may  become  more  fruitful 
unto  God  than  the  present,  and  the  church  of  Christ  be 
replenished  with  many  such  as  have  been  called  into  the 
vineyard  "  early  in  the  morning."  And  should  our  endeav- 
ors for  a  length  of  time  apparently  fail  of  success,  yet 
we  ought  not  to  despair.  Early  impressions  and  convic- 
tions of  conscience  have  sometimes  lain  dormant  for  years, 
and  at  last  revived  into  gracious  existence  and  maturity. 
It  was  not  said  in  vain,  "  Train  up  a  child  in  the  way  he 
should  iro,  and  when  he  is  old  he  will  not  depart  from  it." 


160  THE   YOUNG    COTTAGER. 

What  a  gratifying  occupation  it  is  to  an  affectionate 
mind,  even  in  a  way  of  nature,  to  walk  through  the  fields, 
and  lead  a  little  child  by  the  hand,  enjoying  its  infantile 
prattle,  and  striving  to  improve  the  time  by  some  kind 
word  of  instruction  !  I  wish  that  every  Christian  pilgrim  ;n 
the  way  of  grace,  as  he  walks  through  the  Lord's  pastures, 
would  try  to  lead  at  least  one  little  child  by  the  hand ;  and 
perhaps  whilst  he  is  endeavoring  to  guide  and  preserve 
his  young  and  feeble  companion,  the  Lord  will  recompense 
him  double  for  all  his  cares,  by  comforting  his  own  heart 
in  the  attempt.  The  experiment  is  worth  the  trial.  It  is 
supported  by  this  recollection  :  "  The  Lord  will  come  with 
strong  hand,  and  his  arm  shall  rule  for  him.  Behold  his 
reward  is  with  him,  and  his  work  before  him.  He  shall 
feed  his  flock  like  a  shepherd,  he  shall  gather  the  lambs 
with  his  arms,  and  carry  them  in  his  bosom,  and  shall 
gently  lead  those  that  are  icith  young." 

I  shall  plead  no  further  apology  for  introducing  to  the 
notice  of  my  readers  a  few  particulars  relative  to  a  young 
female  Cottager,  whose  memory  is  particularly  endeared 
to  me,  from  the  circumstance  of  her  being,  so  far  as  I  can 
trace  or  discover,  my  first-born  spiritual  child  in  the  min- 
istry of  the  gospel.  She  was  certainly  the  first,  of  whose 
conversion  to  God  under  my  own  pastoral  instruction,  I 
can  speak  with  precision  and  assurance. 

Every  parent  of  a  family  knows  that  there  is  a  very  in- 
teresting emotion  of  heart  connected  with  the  birth  of  his 
first-born  child.  Energies  and  affections,  to  which  the 
mind  has  hitherto  been  almost  a  stranger,  begin  to  unfold 
themselves  and  expand  into  active  existence,  when  he  first 
is  hailed  as  a  father.  But  may  not  the  spiritual  father  be 
allowed  the  possession  and  indulgence  of  a  similar  sensation 


THE    YOUNG    COTTAGER.  161 

11  his  connection  with  the  children  whom  the  Lord  gives 
him,  as  begotten  through  the  ministry  of  the  word  of  HfeT 
If  the  first-born  child  in  nature  be  received  as  a  new  and 
acceptable  blessing ;  how  much  more  so  the  first-born 
child  in  grace  !  I  claim  this  privilege  ;  and  crave  permis- 
sion, in  writing  what  follows,  to  erect  a  monumental 
record,  sacred  to  the  memory  of  a  dear  little  child,  who,  I 
trust,  will,  at  the  last  day,  prove  my  crown  of  rejoicing. 

Jane  S was  the  daughter  of  poor  parents,  in  the  vil- 
lage where  it  pleased  God  first  to  cast  my  lot  in  the  min- 
istry. My  acquaintance  with  her  commenced,  when  she 
was  twelve  years  of  age,  by  her  weekly  attendance  at  my 
house  amongst  a  number  of  children  whom  I  invited  and 
regularly  instructed  every  Saturday  afternoon. 

They  used  to  read,  repeat  catechisms,  psalms,  hymns, 
and  portions  of  scripture.  I  accustomed  them  also  to  pass 
a  kind  of  free  conversational  examination,  according  to 
their  age  and  ability,  in  those  subjects  by  which  I  hoped 
to  see  them  made  wise  unto  salvation. 

On  the  summer  evenings  I  frequently  used  to  assemble 
this  little  group  out  of  doors  in  my  garden,  sitting  under 
the  shade  of  some  trees,  which  protected  us  from  the  heat 
of  the  sun.  From  hence  a  scene  appeared  which  rendered 
my  occupation  the  more  interesting.  For  adjoining  the 
spot  where  we  sat,  and  only  separated  from  us  by  a  fence, 
was  the  churchyard,  surrounded  with  beautiful  prospects 
in  every  direction. 

There  lay  the  mortal  remains  of  thousands,  who  from 
age  to  age,  in  their  different  generations,  had  been  suc- 
cessively committed  to  the  grave,  "  earth  to  earth,  ashes 
to  ashes,  dust  to  dust."  Here,  the  once-famed  ancestors 
of  the  rich,  and  the  less  known  forefathers  of  the  poor,  lay 
14* 


162  THE   YOUNG    COTTAGER. 

mingling'  their  dust  together,  and  alike  waiting"  the  resur- 
rection from  the  dead. 

I  had  not  far  to  look  for  subjects  of  warning  and  ex- 
hortation suitable  to  my  little  flock  of  lambs  that  I  was 
feeding.  I  could  point  to  the  heaving  sods  that  marked 
the  dilterent  graves  and  separated  them  from  each  other, 
and  tell  my  pupils,  that,  young  as  they  were,  none  of  them 
were  too  young  to  die  :  and  that  probably  more  than  half 
of  the  bodies  which  were  buried  there,  were  those  of  little 
children.  I  hence  took  occasion  to  speak  of  the  nature 
and  value  of  a  soul,  and  to  ask  them  where  they  expected 
their  souls  to  go  when  they  departed  hence  and  were  no 
more  seen  on  earth. 

I  told  them  who  was  the  "resurrection  and  the  life,"  and 
who  alone  could  take  away  the  sting  of  death.  I  used  to 
remind  them  that  the  hour  was  "  coming,  in  the  which  all 
that  are  in  the  graves  shall  hear  his  voice,  and  shall  come 
forth ;  they  that  have  done  good  unto  the  resurrection  of 
life  ;  and  they  that  have  done  evil  unto  the  resurrection  of 
damnation."  I  often  "availed  myself  of  these  opportunities 
to  call  to  their  recollection  the  more  recent  deaths  of  their 
own  relatives,  that  lay  buried  so  near  us.  Some  had  lost 
a  parent,  others  a  brotljer  or  sister  ;  some  perhaps  had  lost 
all  these,  and  were  committed  to  the  mercy  of  their  neigh- 
bors, as  fatherless  and  motherless  orphans.  Such  circum- 
stances were  occasionally  useful  to  excite  tender  emotions, 
■favorable  to  serious  impressions. 

Sometimes  I  sent  the  children  to  the  various  stones 
which  stood  at  the  head  of  the  graves,  and  bid  them  learn 
the  epitaphs  inscribed  upon  them.  I  took  pleasure  in  see- 
ing the  little  ones  thus  dispersed  in  the  churchyard,  each 
committing  to  memory  a  few  verses  written  in  commemo- 


THE    YOUNG    COTTAGER.  108 

ration  of  the  departed.  They  would  soon  accomplish  the 
'desired  object,  and  eagerly  return  to  me  ambitious  to  repeat 
their  task. 

Thus  rny  churchyard  became  a  book  of  instruction,  and 
every  grave-stone  a  leaf  of  edification  for  my  young  dis- 
ciples. 

The  church  itself  stood  in  the  midst  of  the  ground.  It 
was  a  spacious  antique  structure.  Within  those  very 
walls  I  first  proclaimed  the  message  of  God  to  sinners. 
As  these  children  surrounded  me,  I  sometimes  pointed  to 
the  church,  spoke  to  them  of  the  nature  of  public  worship, 
the  value  of  the  Sabbath,  the  duty  of  regular  attendance 
on  its  services,  and  urged  their  serious  attention  to  the 
means  oi  grace.  I  showed  them  the  sad  state  of  many 
countries,  where  neither  churches  nor  Bibles  were  known ; 
and  the  no  less  melancholy  condition  of  multitudes  at  home, 
who  sinfully  neglect  worship,  and  slight  the  Word  of  God. 
I  thus  tried  to  make  them  sensible  of  their  own  favors  and 
privileges. 

Neither  was  I  at  a  loss  for  another  class  of  objects 
around  me,  from  which  I  could  draw  useful  instruction : 
for  many  of  the  beauties  of  created  nature  appeared  in  view. 

Eastward  of  ue  extended  a  large  river  or  lake  of  sea- 
water,  chiefly  formed  by  the  tide,  and  nearly  enclosed  by 
land.  Beyond  this  was  a  fine  bay  and  road  for  ships,  filled 
with  vessels  of  every  size,  from  the  small  sloop  or  cutter 
to  the  first-rate  man  of  war.  On  the  right  hand  of  the 
Jiaven  rose  a  hill  of  peculiarly  beautiful  form  and  consider- 
able height.  Its  verdure  was  very  rich,  and  many  hundred 
sheep  grazed  upon  its  sides  and  summit.  From  the  op- 
posite shore  of  the  same  water  a  large  sloping  extent  of 
bank  was  diversified  with  fields,  woodg,  hedges,  and  cot- 


164  THE    YOUNG    COTTAGER. 

tages.  At  its  extremity  stood,  close  to  the  edge  of  the  sea 
itself,  the  remains  of  the  tower  of  an  ancient  church,  still 
preserved  as  a  sea-mark.  Far  beyond  the  bay,  a  very  dis* 
tant  shore  was  observable,  and  land  beyond  it ;  trees, 
towns,  and  other  buildings  appeared,  more  especially  when 
gilded  by  the  reflected  rays  of  the  sun. 

To  the  southwest  of  the  garden  was  another  down 
covered  also  with  flocks  of  sheep,  and  a  portion  of  it  fringed 
with  trees.  At  the  foot  of  this  hill  lay  the  village,  a  part 
of  which  gradually  ascended  to  the  rising  ground  on  which 
the  church  stood. 

From  the  intermixture  of  houses  with  gardens,  orchards, 
and  trees,  it  presented  a  very  pleasing  aspect.  Several 
fields  adjoined  the  garden  on  the  east  and  north,  where  a 
number  of  cattle  were  pasturing.  My  own  little  shrub- 
beries and  flower-beds  variegated  the  view,  and  recom- 
pensed my  toil  in  rearing  them,  as  well  by  their  beauty  as 
their  fragrance. 

Had  the  sweet  Psalmist  of  Israel  sat  in  this  spot,  he 
would  have  glorified  God  the  Creator  by  descanting  on 
these  his  handy-works.  I  cannot  write  Psalms  like  David; 
but  I  wish  in  my  own  poor  way  to  praise  the  Lord  for  his 
goodness,  and  to  show  forth  his  wonderful  works  to  the 
children  of  men.  But  had  David  been  also  surrounded 
with  a  troop  of  young  scholars  in  such  a  situation,  he 
would  once  more  have  said,  "  Out  of  the  mouths  of  babes 
and  sucklings  hast  thou  ordained  strength." 

I  love  to  retrace  these  scenes — they  are  past,  but  the 
recollection  is  sweet. 

I  love  to  retrace  them — for  they  bring  to  my  mind  many 
former  mercies,  which  ought  not,  for  the  Lord's  sake,  to 
be  forgotten. 


THE   YOUNG    COTTAGER.  16S 

I  love  to  retrace  them — for  they  reassure  me  that,  in 
the  course  of  that  private  ministerial  occupation,  God  was 
pleased  to  give  me  so  valuable  a  fruit  of  my  labors. 

Little  Jane  used  constantly  to  appear  on  these  weekly 
seasons  of  instruction.  I  made  no  very  particular  observa- 
tions concerning  her  during  the  first  twelve  months  or 
more  after  her  commencement  of  attendance.  She  was 
not  then  remarkable  for  any  peculiar  attainment.  On  the 
whole,  I  used  to  think  her  rather  more  slow  of  apprehen- 
sion than  most  of  her  companions.  She  usually  repeated 
her  task  correctly,  but  was  seldom  able  to  make  answers 
to  questions  for  which  she  was  not  previously  prepared 
with  replies — a  kind  of  extempore  examination  in  which 
some  of  the  children  excelled.  Her  countenance  was  not 
engaging,  her  eye  discovered  no  remarkable  liveliness. 
She  read  tolerably  well,  took  pains,  and  improved  in  it. 

Mildness  and  quietness  marked  her  general  demeanor. 
She  was  very  constant  in  her  attendance  on  public  wor- 
ship at  the  church,  as  well  as  on  my  Saturday  instruction 
at  home.  But,  generally  speaking,  she  was  little  noticed, 
except  for  her  regular  and  orderly  conduct.  Had  I  then 
been  asked,  of  which  of  my  young  scholars  I  had  formed 
the  most  favorable  opinion,  poor  Jane  might  probably  have 
been  altogether  omitted  in  the  list. 

How  little  do  we  oftentimes  know  what  God  is  doing  in 
other  people's  hearts  !  What  poor  calculators  and  judges 
we  frequently  prove,  till  he  opens  our  eyes  !  His  thoughts 
are  not  our  thoughts  ;  naither  are  our  ways  his  ways. 

Once,  indeed,  during  the  latter  part  of  that  year,  I  was 
struck  with  her  ready  attention  to  my  wishes.  I  had, 
agreeably  to  the  plan  above  mentioned,  sent  her  into  the 
churchyard  to  commit  to  memory  an  epitaph  which  I  ad- 


166  THE   YOUNG    COTTAGER. 

mired.  On  her  return  she  told  me,  that,  in  addition  to 
what  I  had  desired,  she  had  also  learned  another,  which 
was  inscribed  on  an  adjoining  stone ;  adding,  that  she 
thought  it  a  very  pretty  one. 

I  thought  so  too,  and  perhaps  :ny  readers  will  be  of  the 
same  opinion.  Little  Jane,  though  dead,  yet  shall  speak. 
While  I  transcribe  the  lines,  I  can  powerfully  imagine 
that  I  hear  her  voice  repeating  them ;  the  idea  is  exceed- 
ingly gratifying  to  me. 


EPITAPH  OX  ^mS.  A.  B. 

Forgive,  blest  shade,  the  tributary  tear, 
That  mourns  thy  exit  from  a  world  like  tliis 

Forgive  the  wish  that  would  have  kept  thee  here, 
And  stay'd  thy  progress  to  the  seats  of  bliss. 

No  more  conlin'd  to  grov'lling  scenes  of  night, 

No  more  a  tenant  pent  in  mortal  clay, 
Now  should  we  rather  hail  thy  glorious  flight, 

And  trace  tliy  journey  to  the  realms  of  day. 

The  above  was  her  appointed  task  ;  and  the  other, 
which  she  voluntarily  learned  and  spoke  of  with  pleasure, 
is  this  : 


EPITAPH,  ON  THE  STONE  ADJOINING. 

It  must  be  so — Our  father  Adam's  fall, 
And  disobedience,  brought  this  lot  on  all. 
All  die  in  him— But  hopeless  should  we  be, 
Blest  Revelation  !  were  it  not  for  thee. 

Hail,  glorious  Gospel ;  heavenly  light,  whereby 
We  live  with  comlbrt,  and  with  comfort  die  ; 
And  view  beyond  this  gloomy  scene  the  tomb, 
A  life  of  endless  liappiness  to  come. 


THE   YOUNG    COTTAGER.  167 

I  afterward  discovered  that  the  sentiment  expressed  in 
the  latter  epitaph  had  much  affected  her.  But  at  the  pe- 
riod of  this  little  incident  I  knew  nothing  of  her  mind.  I 
had  comparatively  overlooked  her.  I  have  often  been 
sorry  for  it  since.  Conscience  seemed  to  rebuke  me,  when 
I  afterward  discovered  what  the  Lord  had  been  doing  for 
her  soul,  a&  if  I  had  neglected  her.  Yet  it  was  not  done 
designedly.  She  was  unknown  to  us  all  ;  except  that,  as 
I  since  found  out,  her  regularity  and  abstinence  from  the 
sins  and  follies  of  her  young  equals  in  age  and  station 
brought  upon  her  many  taunts  and  jeers  from  others,  which 
she  bore  very  meekly.     But  at  that  time  I  knew  it  not. 

I  was  young  myself  in  the  ministry,  and  younger  in 
Christian  experience.  My  parochial  plans  had  not  as  yet 
assumed  such  a  principle  of  practical  order  and  inquiry, 
as  to  make  me  acquainted  with  the  character  and  conduct 
of  each  family  and  individual  in  my  flock. 

I  was  then  quite  a  learner,  and  had  much  to  learn. 

And  what  am  I  now  1 — A  learner  still  :  and  if  I  have 
learned  any  thing,  it  is  this,  that  I  have  every  day  more 
and  more  yet  to  learn.  Of  this  I  am  certain  ;  that  my 
young  scholar  soon  became  my  teacher.  I  first  saw  what 
true  religion  could  accomplish,  in  witnessing  her  expe- 
rience of  it.  The  Lord  once  "called  a  little  child  unto 
him,  and  set  him  in  the  midst  of  his  disciples,"  as  an  em- 
blem and  an  illustration  of  his  doctrine.  But  the  Lord 
did  more  in  the  case  of  little  Jane.  He  not  only  called 
?ier,  as  a  child,  to  show,  by  a  similitude,  what  conversion 
means  ;  but  he  also  called  her  by  his  grace  to  be  a  vessel 
of  mercy  and  a  living  witness  of  that  almighty  power  and 
love,  by  which  her  own  heart  was  turned  to  God. 


168  THE   YOUNG    COTTAGER. 


PART  II. 

There  is  no  illustration  of  the  nature  and  character  of 
the  Redeemer's  kingdom  on  earth  which  is  more  grateful 
to  contemplation,  than  that  of  the  shepherd  and  his  flock. 
Imagination  has  been  accustomed  from  our  earliest  child- 
hood to  wander  amongst  the  fabled  retreats  of  the  Arca- 
dian shepherds.  We  have  probably  often  delighted  our- 
selves in  our  own  native  country,  by  witnessing  the  in- 
teresting occupation  of  the  pastoral  scene.  The  shep- 
herd, tending  his  flock  on  the  side  of  some  spacious  hill, 
or  in  the  hollow  of  a  sequestered  valley  ;  folding  them  at 
night,  and  guarding  them  against  all  danger  ;  leading 
them  from  one  pasture  to  another,  or  for  refreshment  to 
the  cooling  waters — these  objects  have  met  and  gratified 
our  eyes,  as  we  travelled  through  the  fields,  and  sought 
out  creation's  God  amidst  creation's  beauties.  The  poet 
and  the  painter  have  each  lent  their  aid  to  cherish  our  de- 
light in  these  imaginations.  Many  a  descriptive  verse 
has  strengthened  our  attachment  to  the  pastoral  scene, 
and  many  a  well- wrought  picture  has  occasioned  it  to  glow 
like  a  reality  in  our  ideas. 

But  far  more  impressively  than  these  causes  can  possi- 
bly effect,  has  the  Word  of  God  endeared  the  subject  to 
our  hearts,  and  sanctified  it  to  Christian  experience.  Who 
does  not  look  back  with  love  and  veneration  to  those  days 
of  holy  simplicity,  when  patriarchs  of  the  church  of  God 
lived  in  tents  and  watched  their  flocks  1  With  what  a 
strength  and  beauty  of  allusion  do  the  Prophets  refer  to 
the  intercourse  between  the  shepherd  and  flock  for  an 


THE   YOUNG   COTTAGER.  169 

illustration  of  the  Saviour's  kingdom  on  earth  !  The 
Psalmist  rejoiced  in  the  consideration  that  the  Lord  was 
his  Shepherd,  and  that  therefore  he  should  not  want. 
The  Redeemer  himself  assumed  this  interesting  title,  and 
declared  that  "  his  sheep  hear  his  voice,  he  knows  them 
and  they  follow  him,  and  he  gives  unto  them  eternal 
life." 

Perhaps  at  no  previous  moment  was  this  comparison 
ever  expressed  so  powerfully,  as  when  his  risen  Lord  gave 
the  pastoral  charge  to  the  lately  offending  but  now  peni- 
tent disciple,  saying,  "  Feed  my  sheep."  Every  principle 
of  grace,  mercy,  and  peace,  met  together  on  that  occasion. 
Peter  had  thrice  denied  his  Master  :  his  Master  now  thrice 
asked  him,  "  Lovest  thou  me  ]"  Peter  each  time  appealed 
to  his  own,  or  to  his  Lord's  consciousness  of  what  he  felt 
within  his  heart.  As  often  Jesus  committed  to  his  care 
the  flock  which  he  had  purchased  with  his  blood.  And 
that  none  might  be  forgotten,  he  not  only  said,  "  Feed  my 
sheep,"  but,  "  Feed  my  lambs,"  also. 

May  every  instructor  of  the  young  keep  this  injunction 
enforced  on  his  conscience  and  affections  ! — I  return  to  lit- 
tle Jane . 

It  was  about  fifteen  months  from  the  first  period  of  her 
attendance  on  my  Saturday  school,  when  I  missed  her 
from  her  customary  place.  Two  or  three  weeks  had  gone 
by,  without  my  making  any  particular  inquiry  respecting 
her.  I  was  at  length  informed  that  she  was  not  welh 
But,  apprehending  no  peculiar  cause  for  alarm,  nearly  two 
months  passed  away  without  any  further  mention  of  her 
name  being  made. 

At  length  a  poor  old  woman  in  the  village,  of  whose  re- 
ligious disposition  I  had  formed  a  good  opinion,  came  and 
15 


170  THE   YOUNG   COTTAGER. 

said  to  me,  "  Sir,  have  not  you  missed  Jane  S at  your 

house  on  Saturday  afternoons  ]" 

"  Yes,"  I  replied,  "  I  believe  she  is  not  well." 

"  Nor  ever  will  be,  I  fear,"  said  the  woman. 

"  What,  do  you  apprehend  any  danger  in  the  case  V 

"  Sir,  she  is  very  poorly  indeed,  and  I  think  is  in  a  de- 
cline. She  wants  to  see  you,  sir  ;  but  is  afraid  you  would 
not  come  to  see  such  a  poor  young  child  as  she  is." 

"  Not  go  where  poverty  and  sickness  may  call  me  !  how 
can  she  imagine  so  ?  at  which  house  does  she  live  ?" 

"  Sir,  it  is  a  poor  place,  and  she  is  ashamed  to  ask  you 
to  come  there.  Her  near  neighbors  are  noisy,  wicked 
people,  and  her  own  father  and  mother  are  strange  folks. 
They  all  make  game  at  poor  Jenny,  because  she  reads  her 
Bible  so  much." 

"  Do  not  tell  me  about  poor  places,  and  wicked  people  : 
that  is  the  very  situation  where  a  minister  of  the  gospel  is 
called  to  do  the  most  good.  I  shall  go  to  see  her ;  you 
may  let  her  know  my  intention." 

"  I  will,  sir  ;  I  go  in  most  days  to  speak  to  her,  and  it 
does  one's  heart  good  to  hear  her  talk." 

"  Indeed  I"  said  I  :  "  what  does  she  talk  about  1" 

*'  Talk  about,  poor  thing  !  why,  nothing  but  good  things, 
such  as  the  Bible,  and  Jesus  Christ,  and  life,  and  death, 
and  her  soul,  and  heaven,  and  hell,  and  your  discourses, 
and  the  books  you  used  to  teach  her,  sir.  Her  father  says 
he'll  have  no  such  godly  doings  in  his  house  ;  and  her  own 
mother  scoffs  at  her,  and  says  she  supposes  Jenny  counts 
herself  better  than  other  folks.  But  she  does  not  mind 
all  that.  She  will  read  her  books,  and  then  talk  so  pretty 
to  her  mother,  and  beg  that  she  would  think  about  her 
soul." 


THE    YOUNG    COTTAGER.  171 

"  The  Lord  forgive  me,"  thought  I,  "  for  not  being  more 
attentive  to  this  poor  child's  case."  I  seemed  to  feel  the 
importance  of  infantine  instruction  more  than  ever  I  had 
done  before,  and  felt  a  rising  hope  that  this  girl  might 
prove  a  kind  of  first  fruits  of  my  labors. 

I  now  recollected  her  quiet,  orderly,  diligent  attendance 
on  our  little  weekly  meetings  ;  and  her  marked  approbation 
of  the  epitaph,  as  related  in  my  last  paper,  rushed  into  my 
thoughts.  "  I  hope,  I  really  hope,"  said  I,  "  this  dear  child 
will  prove  a  true  child  of  God.  And  if  so,  what  a  mercy 
to  her,  and  what  a  mercy  for  me  !" 

The  next  morning  I  went  to  see  the  child.  Her  dwell- 
ing was  of  the  humblest  kind.  It  stood  against  a  high 
bank  of  earth,  which  formed  a  sort  of  garden  behind  it. 
It  was  so  steep  that  but  little  would  grow  in  it ;  yet  that 
little  served  to  show  not  only,  on  the  one  hand,  the  poverty 
of  its  owners,  but  also  to  illustrate  the  happy  truth,  that 
even  in  the  worst  of  circumstances  the  Lord  does  make  a 
kind  provision  for  the  support  of  his  creatures.  The  front 
aspect  of  the  cottage  was  chiefly  rendered  pleasing,  by  a 
honeysuckle,  which  luxuriantly  climbed  up  the  wall,  en- 
closing the  door,  windows,  and  even  the  chimney,  with  its 
twining  branches.  As  I  entered  the  house-door,  its  flow- 
ers put  forth  a  very  sweet  and  refreshing  smell.  Intent 
on  the  object  of  my  visit,  I  at  the  same  moment  offered 
up  silent  prayer  to  God,  and  entertained  a  hope,  tliat  the 
welcome  fragrance  of  the  shrub  might  be  illustrative 
of  that  all-prevailing  intercession  of  a  Redeemer,  which 
I  trusted  was,  in  the  case  of  this  little  child,  as  "  a  sweet 
smelling  savor"  to  her  heavenly  Father.  The  very  flow- 
ers and  leaves  of  the  garden  and  field  are  emblematical  of 
higher  things,  when  grace  teaches  us  to  make  them  so. 


172  THE   YOUNG    COTTAGER. 

Jane  was  in  bed  up  stairs.  I  found  no  one  in  the  house 
with  her.  except  the  woman  who  had  brought  rae  the  mes- 
sage on  the  evening  before.  The  instant  I  looked  on  the 
girl  I  perceived  a  very  marked  change  in  her  countenance : 
it  had  acquired  the  consumptive  hue,  both  white  and  red. 
A  delicacy  unknown  to  it  before  quite  surprised  me,  owing 
to  the  alteration  it  produced  in  her  look.  She  received  me 
first  with  a  very  sweet  smile,  and  then  instantly  burst  into 
a  flood  of  tears,  just  sobbing  out, 

"  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you,  sir !" 

"  I  am  very  much  concerned  at  your  being  so  ill, 
my  child,  and  grieved  that  I  was  not  sooner  aware  of 
your  state.  But  I  hope  the  Lord  designs  it  for  your 
good." 

Her  eye,  not  her  tongue,  powerfully  expressed,  "I 
hope  and  think  he  does." 

"  Well,  my  poor  child,  since  you  can  no  longer  come  to 
see  me,  I  will  come  and  see  you,  and  we  will  talk  over  the 
subjects  which  I  have  been  used  to  explain  to  you." 

"  Indeed,  sir,  I  shall  be  so  glad." 

"That  I  believe  she  will,"  said  the  woman;  "for  she 
loves  to  talk  of  nothing  so  much  as  what  she  has  heard 
you  say  in  your  sermoxis,  and  in  the  books  you  have  given 
her." 

"  Are  you  really  desirous,  my  dear  child,  to  be  a  true 
Christian?" 

"O!  yes,  yes,  sir;  I  am  sure  I  desire  that  above  all 
things." 

I  was  astonished  and  delighted  at  the  earnestness  and 
simplicity  with  which  she  spoke  these  words. 

"  Sir,"  added  she,  "  I  have  been  thinking  as  I  lay  on 
my  bed  for  many  weeks  past,  how  good  you  are  to  in- 


THE   YOUNG    COTTAGER.  173 

Btruct  US  poor  children ;  what  must  become  of  us  with- 
out it'" 

"  I|am  truly  glad  to  perceive  that  my  instructions  have 
not  been  lost  upon  you,  and  pray  God  that  this  your  pre- 
sent sickness  may  be  an  instrument  of  blessing  in  his 
hands  to  prove,  humble,  and  sanctify  you.  My  dear  child, 
you  have  a  soul,  an  immortal  soul  to  think  of;  you  remem- 
ber what  I  have  often  said  to  you  about  the  value  of  a  soul : 
'  What  would  it  profit  a  man  to  gain  the  whole  world,  and 
lose  his  own  soul]'  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  remember  well  you  told  us,  that  when  our 
bodies  are  put  into  the  grave,  our  souls  will  then  go  either 
to  the  good  or  the  bad  place." 

"  And  to  which  of  these  places  do  you  think  that,  as  c 
sinner  in  the  sight  of  God,  you  deserve  to  go  ]" 

"  To  the  bad  one,  sir." 

"  What,  to  everlasting  destruction!" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Why  so  ]" 

"Because  I  am  a  great  sinner." 

"  And  must  all  great  sinners  go  to  hell!" 

"  They  all  deserve  it ;  and  I  am  sure  I  do." 

"  But  is  there  no  way  of  escape !  Is  there  no  way  for  a 
great  sinner  to  be  saved !" 

"  Yes,  sir,  Christ  is  the  Saviour." 

"  And  whom  does  he  save  7" 

"All  believers." 

"And  do  you  believe  in  Christ  yourself!" 

"  I  do  not  know,  sir ;  I  wish  I  did ;  but  1  feel  that  I 
love  him." 

"What  do  you  love  him  for?" 

"  Because  he  is  good  to  poor  children's  souls  like  mine." 
15* 


174  THE   YOUNG    COTTAGER. 

"  What  has  he  done  for  you?" 

"  He  died  for  me,  sir  ;  and  what  could  he  do  more  V* 
"  And  what  do  you  hope  to  gain  by  his  death?"     ' 
"  A  good  place  when  I  die,  if  I  believe  in  him  and  love 
him." 

"  Have  you  felt  any  uneasiness  on  account  of  your  soul  7" 
"  O  !  yes,  sir,  a  great  deal.  When  you  used  to  talk  to 
us  children  on  Saturdays,  I  often  felt  as  if  I  could  hardly 
bear  it,  and  wondered  that  others  could  seem  so  careless. 
I  thought  I  was  not  fit  to  die.  I  thought  of  all  the  bad 
things  I  had  ever  done  and  said,  and  believed  God  must 
be  very  angry  with  me  ;  for  you  often  told  us,  that  God 
would  not  be  mocked ;  and  that  Christ  said,  if  we  w^ere 
not  converted  we  could  not  go  to  heaven.  Sometimes  I 
thought  I  was  so  young  it  did  not  signify :  and  then  again 
it  seemed  to  me  a  great  sin  to  think  so  :  for  I  knew  I  was 
old  enough  to  see  w^hat  was  right  and  what  was  wTong : 
and  so  God  had  a  just  right  to  be  angry  when  I  did  wrong. 
Besides,  I  could  see  that  my  heart  was  not  right :  and  how 
could  such  a  heart  be  fit  for  heaven  1  Indeed,  sir,  T  used 
to  feel  very  uneasy." 

"  My  dear  Jenny,  I  wish  I  had  known  all  this  before. 
Why  did  you  never  tejl  me  about  if?" 

"  Sir,  I  durst  not.  Indeed,  I  could  not  well  say  what 
was  the  matter  with  me  :  and  I  thought  you  would  look 
upon  me  as  very  bold  if  I  had  spoke  about  myself  to  such 
a  gentleman  as  you  :  yet  I  often  wished  that  you  knew 
what  I  felt  and  feared.  Sometimes,  as  we  went  away 
from  your  house,  I  could  not  help  crying ;  and  then  the 
other  children  laughed  and  jeered  at  me,  and  said  I  was 
going  to  be  very  good,  they  supposed,  or  at  least  to  make 
people  think  so.     Sometimes,  sir,  I  fancied  you  did  not 


THE   YOUNG   COTTAGER.  11®- 

think  so  well  of  me  as  of  the  rest,  and  that  hurt  me ;  yet 
I  knew  I  deserved  no  particular  favor,  because  I  was  the 
chief  of  sinners." 

'*  My  dear,  what  made  St.  Paul  say  he  was  the  chief  of 
sinners'?  In  what  verse  of  the  Bible  do  you  find  this  ex- 
pression, 'the  chief  of  sinners  :' — can  you  repeat  it]" 

"  '  This  is  a  faithful  saying-,  and  worthy  of  all  accepta- 
tion, that  Christ  Jesus  came  into  the  world  to  save  sinners :' 
is  not  that  right,  sir  ?" 

"  Yes,  my  child,  it  is  right;  and  I  hope  that  the  same 
conviction  which  St.  Paul  had  at  that  moment,  has  made 
you  sensible  of  the  same  truth.  Christ  came  into  the 
world  to  save  sinners :  my  dear  child,  remember  now  and 
for  evermore,  that  Christ  came  into  the  world  to  save  the 
chief  of  sinners." 

"  Sir,  I  am  so  glad  he  did.  It  makes  me  hope  that  he 
will  save  me,  though  I  am  a  poor  sinful  girl.  Sir,  I  am 
very  ill,  and  I  do  not  think  I  shall  ever  get  well  again.  I 
want  to  go  to  Christ,  if  I  die." 

"  Go  to  Christ  while  you  live,  my  dear  child,  and  he  will 
not  cast  you  away  when  you  die.  He  that  said,  '  Suffer 
little  children  to  come  unto  me,'  waits  to  be  gracious  to 
them,  and  forbids  them  not. 

"  What  made  you  first  think  so  seriously  about  the  state 
of  your  souH" 

"  Your  talking  about  the  graves  in  the  churchyard,  and 
telling  us  how  many  young  children  were  buried  there. 
I  remember  you  said  one  day,  near  twelve  months  ago, 
'  Children !  where  will  you  be  a  hundred  years  hence  1 
Children  !  where  do  you  think  you  shall  go  when  you  die? 
Children  !  if  you  were  to  die  to-night,  are  you  sure 
vou   should  go  to  Christ  and  be  happy  V    Sir,  I   never 


176  THE    YOUNG    COTTAGER. 

shall  forget  your  saying,  'Children,'  three  times  togethei 
in  that  solemn  way." 

"  Did  you  never  before  that  day  feel  any  desire  about 
your  soul?" 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  I  think  I  first  had  that  desire  almost  as  soon 
as  you  began  to  teach  us  on  Saturday  afternoons ;  but  on 
that  day  I  felt  as  I  never  did  before.  I  shall  never  forget  it. 
All  the  way  as  I  went  home,  and  all  that  night,  these  words 
were  in  my  thoughts  :  'Children!  where  do  you  think  you 
shall  go,  when  you  die  ?'  I  thought  I  must  leave  off  all  my 
bad  ways,  or  where  should  I  go  when  I  died?" 

"  And  what  elFect  did  these  thoughts  produce  in  your 
mind  V 

"  Sir,  I  tried  to  live  belter,  and  I  did  leave  off  many 
bad  ways  ;  but  the  more  I  strove,  the  more  difficult  I 
found  it,  my  heart  seemed  so  hard  :  and  then  I  could  not 
tell  any  one  my  case." 

"  Could  not  you  tell  it  to  the  Lord,  who  hears  and  an- 
swers prayer  J" 

"  My  prayers  (here  she  blushed  and  sighed)  are  very 
poor  at  the  best,  and  at  that  time  I  scarcely  knew  how  to 
pray  at  all,  as  I  ought.  But  I  did  sometimes  ask  the  Lord 
for  a  better  heart."    , 

There  was  a  character  in  all  this  conversation  which 
marked  a  truly  sincere  and  enlightened  state  of  mind. 
She  spoke  with  all  the  simplicity  of  a  child,  and  yet  the 
seriousness  of  a  Christian.  I  could  scarcely  persuade 
myself  that  she  was  the  same  girl  I  had  been  accustomed 
to  see  in  past  time.  Her  countenance  was  filled  with  in- 
teresting affections,  and  always  spoke  much  more  than  her 
tongue  could  utter.  At  the  same  time  she  now  possessed 
an  ease  and  liberty  in  speaking,  to  which  she  had  formerly 


THE    YOUNG    COTTAGER.  Iff 

been  a  stranger  :  nevertheless,  she  was  modest,  hum- 
ble, and  unassuming.  Her  readiness  to  converse  was  the 
result  of  spiritual  anxiety,  not  childish  forwardness.  The 
marks  of  a  divine  change  were  too  prominent  to  be  easily 
mistaken  ;  and  in  this  very  child,  I,  for  the  first  time,  wit- 
nessed the  evident  testimonies  of  such  a  change.  How 
encouraging,  how  profitable  to  my  own  soul ! 

"  Sir,"  continued  little  Jane,  "  I  had  one  day  been  think- 
ing that  I  was  neither  fit  to  live  nor  die  :  for  I  could  find 
no  comfort  in  this  world,  and  I  was  sure  I  deserved  none 
in  the  other.     On  that  day  you  sent  me  to  learn  the  verse 

on  Mrs.  B 's  headstone,  and  then  I  read  that  on  the 

one  next  to  it." 

"  I  very  well  remember  it,  Jenny  ;  you  came  back,  and 
repeated  them  both  to  me." 

"  There  were  two  lines  in  it  which  made  me  think  and 
meditate  a  great  deal." 

"  Which  were  they  V* 

"  '  Hail,  glorious  Gospel,  heavenly  light,  whereby 
We  live  with  comfort,  and  with  comfort  die.' 

I  wished  that  glorious  gospel  was  mine,  that  I  might  live 
and  die  with  comfort ;  and  it  seemed  as  if  I  thought  it 
would  be  so.  I  never  felt  so  happy  in  all  my  life  before. 
The  words  were  often  in  my  thoughts, 

'  Live  witk  comfort,  and  with  comfort  die.* 

*  Glorious  gospel'  indeed  !  I  thought." 

"  My  dear  child,  what  is  the  meaning  of  the  word  gos- 
pel 1" 

"  Good  news." 

"  Good  news  for  whom  ]" 

"  For  wicked  sinners,  sir." 

"  Who  sends  this  good  news  for  wicked  sinners  V 


17S  THE    YOUNG    COTTAGER. 

"  The  Lord  Almighty." 

"  And  who  brings  this  good  news  ]" 

"  Sir,  you  brought  it  to  me^ 

Here  my  soui  melted  in  an  instant,  and  I  could  not  re- 
press the  tears  which  the  emotion  excited.  The  last 
answer  was  equally  unexpected  and  affecting.  I  felt  a 
father's  tenderness  and  gratitude  for  a  new  and  first-born 
child. 

Jane  wept  likewise. 

After  a  little  pause  she  said, 

"  O  sir  !  I  wish  you  would  speak  to  my  father,  and  mo- 
ther, and  little  brother  •  for  I  am  afraid  they  are  going  on 
very  badly." 

«  How  so  ]" 

"  Sir,  they  drink,  and  swear,  and  quarrel,  and  do  not 
like  what  is  good  :  and  it  does  grieve  me  so,  I  cannot  bear 
it.  If  I  speak  a  word  to  them  about  it  they  are  very  angry, 
and  laugh,  and  bid  me  be  quiet,  and  not  set  up  for  their 
teacher.  Sir,  I  am  ashamed  to  tell  you  this  of  them,  but 
I  hope  it  is  not  wrong ;  I  mean  it  for  their  good." 

"  I  wish  your  prayers  and  endeavors  for  their  sake  may 
be  blessed  :  I  will  also  do  what  I  can." 

I  then  prayed  with  the  child,  and  promised  to  visit  her 
constantly. 

As  I  returned  home,  my  heart  was  filled  with  thankful- 
ness for  what  I  had  seen  and  heard.  Little  Jane  appeared 
to  be  a  first-fruits  of  my  parochial  and  spiritual  harvest. 
This  thought  greatly  comforted  and  strengthened  me  in 
my  ministerial  prospects. 

My  partiality  to  the  memory  of  little  Jane  will  probably 
induce  me  to  lay  some  further  particulars  before  the 
reader. 


THE   YOUNG    COTTAGER. 


PART  III. 


iid 


Divine  grace  educates  the  reasoning  faculties  of  the 
Boul,  as  well  as  the  best  affections  of  the  heart ;  and  hap- 
pily consecrates  them  both  to  the  glory  of  the  Redeemer. 
Neither  the  disadvantages  of  poverty,  nor  the  inexperience 
of  childhood,  are  barriers  able  to  resist  the  mighty  influ- 
ences of  the  Spirit  of  God,  when  "  he  goeth  forth  where 
he  listeth." — "  God  hath  chosen  the  foolish  things  of  this 
world  to  confound  the  wise  ;  and  God  hath  chosen  the 
weak  things  of  the  world  to  confound  the  things  which 
are  mighty."  The  truth  of  this  scriptural  assertion  was 
peculiarly  evident  in  the  case  of  my  young  parishioner. 

Little  Jane's  illness  was  of  a  lingering  nature.  I  often 
visited  her.  The  soul  of  this  young  Christian  was  grad- 
ually, but  effectually,  preparing  for  heaven.  I  have  sel- 
dom witnessed  in  any  older  person,  under  similar  circum- 
stances, stronger  marks  of  earnest  inquiry,  continual 
seriousness,  and  holy  affections.  One  morning,  as  I  was 
walking  through  the  churchyard,  in  my  way  to  visit  her,  I 
stopped  to  look  at  the  epitaph  which  had  made  such  a 
deep  impression  on  her  mind.  I  was  struck  with  the  re- 
flection of  the  important  consequences  which  might  result 
from  a  more  frequent  and  judicious  attention  to  tlie  in- 
scriptions placed  in  our  burying-grounds,  as  memorials  of 
the  departed.  The  idea  occurred  to  my  thoughts,  that  as 
the  two  stone  tables  given  by  God  to  Moses  were  once  a 
mean  of  communicating  to  the  Jews,  from  age  to  age,  the 
revelation  of  God's  will  as  concerning  the  law  ;  so  these 
funeral  tables  of  stone  may,  under  a  better  dispensation, 


180  THE    YOUNG    COTTAGER. 

bear  a  never-failing  proclamation  of  God's  good-will  tc 
sinners  as  revealed  in  the  gospel  of  his  grace,  from  gene- 
ration to  generation.  I  have  often  lamented,  when  in- 
dulging a  contemplation  among  the  graves,  that  some  of 
the  inscriptions  were  coarse  and  ridiculous  ;  others,  ab- 
surdly flattering  ;  many,  expressive  of  sentiment  at  vari- 
ance with  the  true  principles  of  the  word  of  God  ;  not  a 
few,  barren  and  unaccompanied  with  a  single  word  of  use- 
ful instruction  to  the  reader.  Thus  a  very  important  op- 
portunity of  conveying  scriptural  admonition  is  lost.  I 
wish  that  every  grave-stone  might  not  only  record  the 
name  of  our  deceased  friends,  but  also  proclaim  the  name 
of  Jesus,  as  the  only  name  given  under  heaven,  whereby 
men  can  be  saved.  Perhaps,  if  the  ministers  of  religion 
were  to  interest  themselves  in  this  manner,  and  accus- 
tom their  people  to  consult  them  as  to  the  nature  of  the 
monumental  inscriptions  which  they  wish  to  introduce 
into  churches  and  churchyards,  a  gradual  improvement 
would  take  place  in  this  respect.  What  is  offensive,  use- 
less, or  erroneous,  would  no  longer  find  admittance,  and  a 
succession  of  valuable  warning  and  consolation  to  the  liv- 
ing would  perpetuate  the  memory  of  the  dead. 

What  can  be  mor^e  disgusting  than  the  too  common 
spectacle  of  trifling,  licentious  travellers,  wandering  about 
the  churchyards  of  the  different  places  through  which 
they  pass,  in  search  of  rude,  ungrammatical,  ill-spelt,  and 
absurd  verses  among  the  grave-stones  ;  and  this  for  tho 
gratification  of  their  unholy  scorn  and  ridicule  !  And  yet 
how  much  is  it  to  be  depi.  ornd  that  such  persons  are  sel- 
dom disappointed  in  finding  many  instances  which  too 
readily  afford  them  the  unfeeling  satisfaction  which  they 
seek  !     I  therefore  offer  this  suggestion  to  my  reverend 


THE    YOUNG    COTTAGER.  181 

brethren,  that  as  no  monument  or  stone  can  be  placed  in  a 
church  or  churchyard  without  their  express  consent  or- 
approbation,  whether  one  condition  of  that  consent  bemg 
granted,  should  not  be  a  previous  inspection  and  approval 
of  every  inscription  which  may  be  so  placed  within  the 
precincts  of  the  sanctuary. 

The  reader  will  pardon  this  digression,  which  evidently 
arose  from  the  peculiar  connection  established  in  little 
Jane's  history,  between  an  epitaph  inscribed  on  a  grave- 
stone, and  the  word  of  God  inscribed  on  her  heart.  When  1 
arrived  at  Jane's  cottage,  I  found  her  in  bed,  reading  Dr. 
Watts's  Hymns  for  Children,  in  which  she  took  great, 
pleasure. 

"  What  are  you  reading  this  morning,  Jane  ?" 
"  Sir,  I  have  been  thinking  very  much  about  some  ver-- 
ses  in  my  little  book. — Here  tliey  are  : 

'  There  is  an  hour  when  1  must  die^ 

Nor  do  1  know  how  soon  'twill  come  ; 
A  thousand  children  young  as  I, 

Are  called  by  death  to  hear  their  doom. 

'  Let  me  improve  th(?  hours  I  have, 

Before  the  day  of  grace  is  fled ; 
There's  no  repentance  in  the  grave, 

Nor  pardon  ofier'd  to  the  dead.' 

"Sir,  I  feel  all  that  to  be  very  true,  and  T  am  afraid  l 
dD  not  improve  the  hours  I  hav^  as  I  ought  to  do.     I  think 
I  shall  not  live  very  longf   and  when  I  remember  my 
sins,  I  say, 

'  Lord,  at  thy  foot  asham'd  1  lie, 

Upward  1  dare  not  look ; 
Pardon  my  sins  before  1  die, 

And  blot  them  from  thy  >bok.' 

Do  you  think  he  will  pardon  me,  sir  V* 
16 


182  THE    YOUNG    COTTAGER. 

"  My  dear  child,  I  have  great  hopes  that  he  has  par- 
doned you  :  that  he  has  heard  your  prayers,  and  put  you 
into  the  number  of  his  true  children  already.  You  have 
bad  strong  proofs  of  his  mercy  to  your  soul." 

''  Yes,  sir,  I  have,  and  I  wish  to  love  and  bless  him  for 
it.     He  is  good,  very  good." 

It  had  for  some  time  past  occurred  to  my  mind,  that  a 
course  of  regulated  conversations  on  the  first  principles  of 
religion,  would  be  very  desirable  from  time  to  time,  for 
this  interesting  child's  sake  ;  and  I  thought  the  Church 
•Catechism  would  be  the  best  ground-work  for  that  purpose. 

"  Jenny,"  said  I,  "  you  can  repeat  the  Catechism  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir ;  but  I  think  that  has  been  one  of  my  sins  in 
the  sight  of  God." 

^'  What  !  repeating  your  Catechism  1" 

"  Yes,  sir,  in  such  a  way  as  I  used  to  do  it." 

"  How  was  that  V 

"  Very  carelessly  indeed.  I  never  thought  about  the 
meaning  of  the  words,  and  that  must  be  very  wrong.  Sir, 
the  Catechism  is  full  of  good  things  ;  I  wish  I  understood 
them  better." 

"  Well  then,  my  child,  we  will  talk  a  little  about  those 
good  things  which,  as  you  truly  say,  are  contained  in  the 
Catechism.  Did  you  ever  consider  what  it  is  to  be  a  mem- 
ber of  Christ,  a  child  of  God,  and  an  inheritor  of  the  king- 
dom of  heaven  ?" 

*'I  think,  sir,  I  have  lately  considered  it  a  good  deal; 
and  I  want  to  be  such,  not  only  in  name,  but  in  deed  and 
in  truth.  You  once  told  me,  sir,  that  'as  the  branch  is  to 
the  vine,  and  the  stone  to  the  building,  and  the  limb  to  the 
body  and  the  head,  so  is  a  true  believer  to  the  Lord  Jesus 
XJhrist.'    But  how  am  I  to  know  that  I  belong  to  Christ  as 


THE    YOUNG    COTTAGER. 


im 


a  true  member,  which  you  said  one  day  in  the  church, 
means  the  same  as  a  limb  of  the  body,  such  as  a  leg  or 
an  arm  ]" 

"  Do  you  love  Christ  now  in  a  way  you  never  used  to 
do  before  ]" 

"  Yes,  I  think  so  indeed." 

"  Why  do  you  love  him!" 

*'  Because  he  first  loved  me." 

"  How  do  you  know  that  he  first  lovea  you  ?" 

"  Because  he  sent  me  instruction,  and  made  me  feel  the 
sin  of  my  heart,  and  taught  me  to  pray  for  pardon,  and 
love  his  ways  :  he  sent  you  to  teach  me,  sir,  an^  to  show 
me  the  way  to  be  saved  ;  and  now  I  want  to  be  saved  in 
that  way  that  he  pleases.  Sometimes  I  feel  as  if  I  loved 
all  that  he  has  said  and  done,  so  much,  that  I  wish  never 
to  think  about  any  thing-  else.  I  know  1  did  not  use  to 
feel  so ;  and  I  think  if  he  had  not  loved  me  first,  my 
wicked  heart  would  never  have  cared  about  him.  I  once 
loved  any  thing  better  than  religion,  but  now  it  is  every 
thing  to  me." 

"  Do  you  believe  in  your  heart  that  Christ  is  able  and 
willing  to  save  the  chief  of  sinners]" 

"I  do." 

"And  what  are  you  ]" 

'A  young,  but  a  great  sinner." 

"  Is  it  not  of  his  mercy  that  you  know  and  feel  yourself 
to  be  a  sinner  1" 

"  Certainly  ;  yes,  it  must  be  so." 

"  Do  you  earnestly  deuire  to  forsake  all  sin  ?" 

"  If  I  know  myself,  I  do." 

"Do  you  feel  a  spirit  within  you,  resisting  sin,  and 
making  you  hate  it  3" 


184  THE    YOUNG    COTTAGER. 

"  Yes,  I  hope  so." 

"Who  gave  you  that  spirit  ?  were  you  always  so]" 

"  It  must  be  Christ,  who  loved  me,  and  gave  himself 
for  me.     I  was  quite  different  once." 

"  Now  then,  my  dear  Jane,  does  not  all  this  show  a  con- 
nection between  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  and  your  soul] 
Does  it  not  seem,  as  if  you  lived,  and  moved,  and  had  a 
spiritual  being  from  hiia  ]  Just  as  a  limb  is  connected 
with  your  body,  and  so  with  your  head,  and  thereby  gets 
power  to  live  and  move  through  the  flowing  of  the  blood 
from  one  to  the  other :  so  are  you  spiritually  a  limb  or 
member  of  Christ,  if  you  believe  in  him  ;  and  thus  obtain, 
through  faith,  a  power  to  love  him,  and  live  to  his  praise 
and  glory.     Do  you  understand  me  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  believe  I  do :  and  it  is  very  comfortable  to 
my  thoughts  to  look  up  to  Christ  as  a  living  head,  and  to 
consider  myself  as  the  least  and  lowest  of  all  his  members." 

"  Now,  tell  me  what  your  thoughts  are  as  to  being  a 
child  of  God." 

"  I  am  sure,  sir,  I  do  not  deserve  to  be  called  his  child." 

"  Can  you  tell  me  who  does  deserve  it  ]" 

"  No  one,  sir." 

"How  then  comes  ,any  one  lo  be  a  child  of  God,  when 
by  nature  we  are  all  children  of  of  wrath  ]" 

"  By  God's  grace,  sir  !" 

"  What  does  grace  mean  ?" 

"  Favor  ;  free  favor  to  sinners." 

"  Right  ;  and  what  does  God  bestow  upon  the  children 
of  wrath,  when  he  makes  them  children  of  grace  ?" 

"  A  death  unto  sin,  and  a  new  birth  unto  righteousness  : 
i."  it  not,  sir  ?" 

"  Yes,  this  is  the  fruit  of  Clirist's  redeeming  love  :  and 


THE    YOUNG    COTTAGER.  185 

I  hope  you  are  a  partaker  of  the  blessing.  The  family  of 
God  is  named  after  him,  and  he  is  the  first-born  of  many- 
brethren.  What  a  mercy  that  Christ  calls  himself  'a 
hrotlier  /'  My  little  girl,  he  is  your  brother ;  and  will  not 
be  ashamed  to  own  you,  and  present  you  to  his  Father  at 
the  last  day,  as  one  that  he  has  purchased  with  his  blood." 
"  I  wish  I  could  love  my  Father  and  my  Brother  which 
are  in  heaven,  better  than  I  do.  Lord,  be  merciful  to  me 
a  sinner  !  I  think,  sir,  if  I  am  a  child  of  God,  I  am  often 
a  rebellious  one.  He  shows  kindness  to  me  beyond  oth- 
ers, and  yet  I  make  a  very  poor  return. 

'Are  these  thy  favors,  day  by  day, 

To  irie  above  the  rest  ? 
Then  let  me  love  thee  more  than  they, 

And  strive  to  serve  thee  best.'  " 

"  That  will  be  the  best  way  to  approve  yourself  a  real 
child  of  God.  Show  your  love  and  thankfulness  to  such  a 
Father,  who  hath  prepared  for  you  an  inheritance  among 
the  samts  in  light,  and  made  you  'an  inheritor  of  the 
kingdom  of  heaven,  as  well  as  a  member  of  Christ,  and  a 
child  of  God.'  Do  you  know  what  '  the  kingdom  of  hea- 
ven' means  V 

Just  at  that  instant,  her  mother  entered  the  house  be- 
low, and  began  to  speak  to  a  younger  child  in  a  passionate, 
scolding  tone  of  voice,  accompanied  by  some  very  offen- 
sive language  ;  but  quickly  stopped  on  hearing  us  in  con- 
versation up  stairs. 

"Ah,  my  poor  mother  !"  said  the  girl,  "you  would  not 

have  stopped  so  short,  if  Mr. had  not  been  here.    Sir, 

you  hear  how  my  mother  swears  ;  pray  say  something  to 
her  ;  she  will  not  hear  Twe." 

le* 


186  THE   YOUNG    COTTAGER. 

I  went  towards  the  stair-head,  and  called  to  the  woman , 
but  ashamed  at  the  thought  of  my  having  probably  over- 
heard her  expressions,  she  suddenly  left  the  house,  and 
for  that  time  escaped  reproof. 

"  Sir,"  said  little  Jane,  "  I  am  so  afraid,  if  I  go  to  heaven, 
I  shall  never  see  my  poor  mother  there.  I  wish  I  may ; 
but  she  does  swear  so,  and  keep  such  bad  company.  As 
I  lie  here  a-bed,  sir,  for  hours  together,  there  is  often  so 
much  wickedness,  and  noise,  and  quarrelling  down  below, 
that  I  do  not  know  how  to  bear  it.  It  comes  very  near,  sir, 
when  one's  father  and  mother  go  on  so.  I  want  them  all  to 
turn  to  the  Lord,  and  go  to  heaven. — Tell  me  now,  sir,  some- 
thing about  being  an  inheritor  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven." 

"You  may  remember,  my  child,  what  I  have  told 
you  when  explaining  the  Catechism  in  the  church,  that 
*the  kingdom  of  heaven'  in  the  Scriptures  means  the 
Church  of  Christ  upon  earth,  as  well  as  the  state  of  glory 
in  heaven.  The  one  is  a  preparation  for  the  other.  All 
true  Christians  are  heirs  of  God,  and  joint-heirs  with 
Christ,  and  shall  inherit  the  glory  and  happiness  of  his 
kingdom,  and  live  with  Christ,  and  be  with  him  for  ever. 
This  is  the  free  gift  of  God  to  his  adopted  children ;  and 
all  that  believe  aright' in  Christ  shall  experience  the  truth 
of  that  promise,  'It  is  your  Father's  good  pleasure  to  give 
you  the  kingdom.'  You  are  a  poor  girl  now,  but  I  trust 
'an  entrance  shall  be  ministered  unto  you  abundantly, 
into  the  everlasting  kingdom  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour 
Jesus  Christ.'  You  sufTer  now ;  but  are  you  not  willing 
to  suffer  for  his  sake,  and  to  bear  patiently  those  things  to 
which  he  calls  you?" 

"  O  yes,  very  willing  ;  I  would  not  complain.  It  is  all 
ricrht." 


THE    YOUNG    COTTAGER.  187 

"  Then,  my  dear,  you  shall  reign  with  him.  Through 
much  tribulation  you  may,  perhaps,  enter  into  the  king- 
dom of  God ;  but  tribulation  worketh  patience ;  and  pa- 
tience experience ;  and  experience,  hope.  As  a  true 
'member  of  Christ,'  show  yourself  to  be  a  dutiful  'child 
of  God,'  and  your  portion  will  be  that  of  an  inheritor  of 
the  kingdom  of  heaven.  Faithful  is  He  that  hath  prom- 
ised ;  commit  thy  way  unto  the  Lord ;  trust  also  in  him, 
and  he  shall  bring  it  to  pass." 

"  Thank  you,  sir ;  I  do  so  love  to  hear  of  these  things. 
And  I  think,  sir,  I  should  not  love  them  so  much,  if  I  had 
no  part  in  them.  Sir,  there  is  one  thing  I  want  to  ask 
you.  It  is  a  great  thing,  and  I  may  be  wrong — I  am  so 
young — And  yet  I  hope  I  mean  right " 

Here  she  hesitated,  and  paused. 

"  What  is  it  ?  do  not  be  fearful  of  mentioning  it." 

A  tear  rolled  down  her  cheek — a  slight  blush  colored 
her  countenance.  She  lifted  up  her  eyes  to  heaven  for  a 
moment,  and  then  fixing  them  on  me  with  a  solemn,  af- 
fecting look,  said — 

"M?iy  so  young  a  poor  child  as  I  am,  be  admitted  to  the 
Lord's  Supper]  I  have  for  some  time  wished  it,  but 
dared  not  to  mention  it,  for  fear  you  should  think  it  wrong." 

"  My  dear  Jenny,  I  have  no  doubt  respecting  it,  and 
shall  be  very  glad  to  converse  with  you  on  the  subject, 
and  hope  that  He  who  has  given  you  the  desire  will  bless 
his  own  ordinance  to  your  soul.  Would  you  wish  it  now, 
or  to-morrow]" 

"  To-morrow,  if  you  please,  sir, — will  you  come  to- 
morrow, and  talk  to  me  about  if?  and  if  you  think  it  pro- 
per, I  shall  be  thankful.  I  am  growing  faint  now — I  hope 
to  be  better  when  you  come  again." 


188  THE    YOUNG    COTTAGEK. 

1  was  much  pleased  with  her  proposal,  and  rejoiced  in 
the  prospect  of  seeing-  no  young  and  sincere  a  Christian 
thus  devote  herself  to  the  Lord,  and  receive  the  sacra- 
mental seal  of  a  Saviour's  love  to  her  soul. 

Disease  was  making  rapid  inroads  upon  her  constitution, 
and  she  was  aw- are  of  it.  But  as  the  outward  man  decay- 
ed, she  was  strengthened  with  might  by  God's  Spirit  in 
the  inner  man.  She  was  evidently  ripening  fast  for  a 
better  world. 

I  remember  these  things  with  affectionate  pleasure — 
they  revive  my  earlier  associations,  and  I  hope  the  recol- 
lection does  me  good.  I  wish  them  to  do  good  to  thee, 
likewise,  my  reader  ;   and  therefore  I  write  them  down. 

May  ^le  simplicity  that  is  in  Christ  render 

'•  The  short  and  simple  annals  of  the  poor" 

a  mean  of  grace  and  blessing  to  thy  soul !  Out  of  the 
mouth  of  this  babe  and  suckling  may  God  ordain  thee 
strength !  If  thou  art  willing,  thou  mayest  perchance 
boar  something  further  respecting  her. 


PART  IV. 


I  WAS  so  much  affected  with  my  last  visit  to  little  Jane, 
and  particularly  with  her  tender  anxiety  respecting  the 
Lord's  Supper,  that  it  formed  the  chief  subject  of  my 
thoughts  for  the  remainder  of  the  day. 

I  rode  in  the  afternoon  to  a  favorite  spot,  where  I  some- 
times indulged  in  solitary  meditation ;  and  where  I  wish- 


THE   YOUNG    COTTAGER.  189 

ed  to  reflect  on  the  interesting  case  of  my  little  dis- 
ciple. 

It  was  a  place  well  suited  for  such  a  purpose. 

In  the  widely  sweeping  curve  of  a  beautiful  bay,  there 
is  a  kind  of  chasm  or  opening  in  one  of  the  lofty  cliffs 
which  bound  it.  This  produces  a  very  romantic  and  strik- 
ing effect.  The  steep-descending  sides  of  this  opening  in 
the  cliff"  are  covered  with  trees,  bushes,  wild-flowers,  fern, 
wormwood,  and  many  other  herbs,  here  and  there  con- 
trasted with  bold  masses  of  rock  or  brown  earth. 

In  the  higher  part  of  one  of  those  declivities  two  or 
three  picturesque  cottages  are  fixed,  and  seem  half  sus- 
pended in  the  air. 

From  the  upper  extremity  of  this  great  fissure,  or  open- 
ing in  the  cliff,  a  small  stream  of  water  enters  by  a  cas- 
cade, flows  through  the  bottom,  winding  in  a  varied  course 
of  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  in  length ;  and  then  runs  into 
the  sea  across  a  smooth  expanse  of  firm  hard  sand,  at  the 
lower  extremity  of  the  chasm.  At  this  point,  the  sides  of 
the  woody  banks  are  very  lofty,  and  to  a  spectator  from 
the  bottom,  exhibit  a  mixture  of  the  grand  and  beautiful 
not  often  exceeded. 

Near  the  mouth  of  this  opening  was  a  little  hollow  re- 
cess, or  cave,  in  the  clift",  from  whence,  on  one  hand,  I 
could  see  the  above-described  romantic  scene ;  on  the  other, 
a  long  train  of  perpendicular  cliffs,  terminating  in  a  bold 
and  wild-shaped  promontory,  which  closed  the  bay  at  one 
end,  while  a  conspicuous  white  cliff  stood  directly  opposite, 
about  four  miles  distant,  at  the  further  point  of  the  bay. 

The  shore  between  the  different  cliffs  and  the  edge  of 
the  waves,  was  in  some  parts  covered  with  stones  and 
shingle,  in  some  with  firm  sand,  and  in  others  with  irre- 


190  THE  rorNCr  cottager. 

gular  heaps  of  little  rocks  fringed  with  sea-weod,  and 
ornamented  with  small  yellow  shells. 

The  cliffs  themselves  were  diversified  with  strata  of 
various-colored  earth,  black,  yellow,  brown,  and  orange. 
The  effects  of  iron  ore,  producing  very  manifest  changes 
of  hue,  were  everywhere  seen  in  trickling  drops  and 
streamlets  down  the  sides. 

The  huts  in  which  the  fishermen  kept  their  baskets, 
nets,  boats,  and  other  implements,  occupied  a  few  retired 
spots  on  the  shore. 

The  open  sea,  in  full  magnificence,  occupied  the  centre 
of  the  prospect ;  bounded,  indeed,  in  one  small  part,  by  a 
very  distant  shore,  on  the  rising  ascent  from  which  the 
rays  of  the  sun  rendered  visible  a  cathedral  church,  with 
its  towering  spire,  at  near  thirty  miles  distance.  Every- 
v.-here  else,  the  sea  beyond  was  limited  only  by  the  sky. 

A  frigate  was  standing  into  the  bay,  not  very  far  from 
my  recess  ;  other  vessels  of  every  size,  sailing  in  many 
directions,  varied  the  scene,  and  furnished  matter  for  a 
thousand  sources  of  contemplation. 

At  my  feet  the  little  rivulet,  gently  rippling  over  peb- 
bles, soon  mingled  with  the  sand,  and  was  lost  in  the 
waters  of  the  mighty  ocean.  The  murmuring  of  the 
wave,  as  the  tide  ebbed  or  flowed,  on  the  sand  ;  their  dash- 
ing against  some  more  distant  rocks,  which  were  covered 
fantastically  with  sea-weed  and  shells ;  sea-birds  floating 
in  the  air  aloft,  or  occasionally  screaming  from  their  holes 
in  the  cliffs ;  the  hum  of  human  voices  in  the  ships  and 
boats,  borne  along  the  water :  all  these  sounds  served  to 
promote,  rather  than  interrupt,  meditation.  They  were 
soothingly  blended  together,  and  entered  the  ear  in  a  kind 
of  natural  harmony. 


THt    YOUXG-   COTTAGER.  191 

In  the  quiet  enjoyment  of  a  scene  like  this,  the  lover  of 
nature's  beauties  will  easily  find  scope  for  spiritual  illus- 
tration. 

Here  I  sat  and  mused  over  the  interesting  character 
and  circumstances  of  little  Jane.  Here  I  prayed  that  God 
would  effectually  teach  me  those  truths  which  I  ought 
to  teach  her. 

When  I  thought  of  her  youth,  I  blushed  to  think  how 
superior  she  was  to  what  I  well  remember  myself  to  have 
been  at  the  same  age  :  nay,  how  far  my  superior  at  that 
very  time.  I  earnestly  desired  to  catch  something  of  the 
spirit  which  appeared  so  lovely  in  her  :  for  simple,  teach- 
able, meek,  humble,  yet  earnest  in  her  demeanor,  she  bore 
living  marks  of  heavenly  teaching. 

"  The  Lord,"  thought  I,  "has  called  this  little  child,  and 
set  her  in  the  midst  of  us,  as  a  parable,  a  pattern,  an  em- 
blem. And  he  saith,  '  Verily,  except  ye  be  converted,  and 
become  as  little  children,  ye  shall  not  enter  into  the  king- 
dom of  heaven.'  O  that  I  may  be  humble  as  this  little  child !" 

I  was  thus  led  into  a  deep  self-examination,  and  was 
severely  exercised  with  fear  and  apprehension,  whether  I 
was  myself  a  real  partaker  of  those  divine  influences  which 
I  could  so  evidently  discover  in  her.  Sin  appeared  to  me 
just  then  to  be  more  than  ever  "  exceeding  sinful."  In- 
ward and  inbred  corruptions  made  me  tremble.  The  dan- 
ger of  self-deception  in  so  great  a  matter  alarmed  me — 
I  was  a  teacher  of  others ;  but  was  I  indeed  spiritually 
taught  myself] 

A  spirit  of  anxious  inquiry  ran  through  every  thought : 
I  looked  at  the  manifold  works  of  creation  around  me ;  I 
perceived  the  greatest  marks  of  regularity  and  order ;  but 
tcithin  I  felt  confusion  and  disorder. 


192  THE   YOUNG    COTTAGER. 

"  The  waves  of  the  sea,"  thought  I,  "ebb  and  flow  in  ex 
act  obedience  to  the  law  of  their  Creator. — Thus  far  they 
come,  and  no  further — they  retre  again  to  their  accus 
tomed  bounds  ;  and  so  maintain  a  regulated  succession  of 
effects. 

"  But  alas  !  the  waves  of  passion  and  affection  in  the 
human  breast  manifest  more  of  the  wild  confusion  of  a 
storm,  than  the  orderly  regularity  of  a  tide — Grace  can 
alone  subdue  them. 

"  What  peaceful  harmony  subsists  throughout  all  this 
lovely  landscape  ! — These  majestic  cliffs,  some  clothed 
with  trees  and  shrubs  ;  others  bare  and  unadorned  with 
herbage,  yet  variegated  with  many-colored  earths  :  these 
are  not  only  sublime  and  delightful  to  behold,  but  they  are 
answering  the  end  of  their  creation,  and  serve  as  a  barrier 
to  stop  the  progress  of  the  waves. 

"  But  how  little  peace  and  harmony  can  I  comparatively 
see  in  my  own  heart !  The  landscape  within  is  marred  by 
dreary  barren  wilds,  and  wants  that  engaging  character 
which  the  various  parts  of  this  prospect  before  me  so  hap 
pily  preserve. — Sin,  sin  is  the  bane  of  mortality,  and  heap? 
confusion  upon  confusion,  wherever  it  prevails. 

"  Yet,  saith  the  voice  of  Promise,  '  Sin  shall  not  have 
dominion  over  you.' — O  !  then,  'may  I  yield  myself  unto 
God,  as  one  that  am  alive  from  the  dead,  and  my  members 
as  instruments  of  righteousness  unto  God.'  And  thus  may 
I  become  an  able  and  willing  minister  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment ! 

"  I  wish  I  were  like  this  little  stream  of  water. — It  takes 
its  first  rise  scarcely  a  mile  off:  yet  it  has  done  good  even 
in  that  short  course.  It  has  passed  by  several  cottages  in 
its  way,  and  afforded  life  and  health  to  the  inhabitants — it 


THE   YOUNG    COTTAGER.  108 

has  watered  their  little  gardens,  as  it  flows,  and  enriched 
the  meadows  near  its  banks.  It  has  satisfied  the  thirst  of 
the  flocks  that  are  feeding  aloft  on  the  hills,  and  perhaps 
refreshed  the  shepherd's  boy  who  sits  watching  his  mas- 
ter's sheep  hard  by.  It  then  quietly  finishes  its  current 
in  this  secluded  dell,  and,  agreeably  to  the  design  of  its 
Creator,  quickly  vanishes  in  the  ocean. 

"  May  my  course  be  like  unto  thine,  thou  little  rivulet ! 
Though  short  be  my  span  of  life,  yet  may  I  be  useful  to 
my  fellow  sinners,  as  I  travel  onward  !  Let  me  be  a  dis- 
penser of  spiritual  support  and  health  to  many  !  Like  this 
stream,  may  I  prove  'the  poor  man's  friend'  by  the  way, 
and  water  the  souls  that  thirst  for  the  river  of  life,  where- 
ever  I  meet  them ! — And,  if  it  please  thee,  O  my  God  ! 
let  me  in  my  latter  end  be  like  this  brook.  It  calmly, 
though  not  quite  silently,  flows  through  this  scene  of 
peace  and  loveliness,  just  before  it  enters  the  sea.  Let 
me  thus  gently  close  my  days  likewise ;  and  may  I  not 
unusefully  tell  to  others  of  the  goodness  and  mercy  of  our 
Saviour,  till  I  arrive  at  the  vast  ocean  of  eternity  ! 

"Thither,"  thought  I,  "little  Jane  is  fast  hastening. 
Short,  but  not  useless,  has  been  her  course.  I  feel  the 
great  importance  of  it  in  my  own  soul  at  this  moment.  I 
view  a  work  of  mercy  there,  to  which  I  do  hope  I  am  not 
quite  a  stranger  in  the  experience  of  my  own  heart.  The 
thought  enlivens  my  spirit,  and  leads  me  to  see,  that,  great 
as  is  the  power  of  sin,  the  power  of  Jesus  is  greater:  and, 
through  grace,  I  may  meet  my  dear  young  disciple,  my 
child  in  the  gospel,  my  sister  in  the  faith,  in  a  brighter,  a 
better  world  hereafter." 

There  was  something  in  tlie  whole  of  this  meditation, 
which  calmed  and  prepared  my  mind  for  my  promised 
17 


194  THE    TOUXG   COTTAGER. 

visit  the  next  day.  I  looked  forward  to  it  with  affectionate 
anxiety. 

It  was  now  time  to  return  homeward.  The  sun  was 
setting.  Tlie  lengthened  shadows  of  the  cliffs,  and  of  the 
hills  towering  again  far  above  them,  cast  a  brown  but  not 
unpleasing  tint  over  the  waters  of  the  bay.  Further  on, 
the  beams  of  the  sun  still  maintained  their  splendor. 
Some  of  the  sails  of  the  distant  ships,  enlivened  by  its 
rays,  appeared  like  white  spots  in  the  blue  horizon,  and 
seemed  to  attract  my  notice,  as  if  to  claim  at  least  the 
passing  prayer,  "God  speed  the  mariners  on  their  voyage !" 

I  quitted  my  retreat  in  the  cliff  with  some  reluctance  ; 
but  with  a  state  of  mind,  as  I  hoped,  solemnized  by  reflec- 
tion, and  animated  to  fragh  exertion. 

I  walked  up  by  a  steep  pathway,  that  winded  through 
the  trees  and  shrubs  on  the  sides  of  one  of  the  precipices. 
At  every  step  the  extent  of  prospect  enlarged,  and  ac- 
quired a  new  and  varying  character,  by  being  seen  through 
the  trees  on  each  side.  Climbing  up  a  kind  of  rude,  in- 
artificial set  of  stone  stairs  in  the  bank,  I  passed  by  the 
singularly-situated  cottages  which  I  had  viewed  from  be- 
neath ;  received  and  returned  the  evening  salutation  of  the 
inhabitants,  sitting  at  their  doors,  and  just  come  home  from 
labor ;  till  I  arrived  at  the  top  of  the  precipice,  where  I 
had  left  my  horse  tied  to  a  gate. 

Could  he  have  enjoyed  it,  he  had  a  noble  prospect  around 
him  in  every  direction  from  this  elevated  point  of  view, 
where  he  had  been  stationed  while  I  was  on  the  shore  be- 
low. But  wherein  he  most  probably  failed,  I  think  his 
rider  did  not.  The  landscape,  taken  in  connection  with  my 
recent  train  of  thought  about  myself  and  little  Jane,  in- 
spired devotion. 


THE   YOUNG    COTTAGER.  195 

The  sun  was  now  set :  the  bright  colors  of  the  western 
clouds  faintly  reflected  from  the  southeastern  hills,  that 
were  unseen  from  my  retreat  in  the  cliff,  or  only  perceived 
by  their  evening  shadows  on  the  sea,  now  added  to  the 
beauty  of  the  prospect  on  the  south  and  west.  Every  ele- 
ment contributed  to  the  interesting  effect  of  the  scenery. 
The  earth  was  diversified  in  shape  and  ornament.  The 
Lcaters  of  the  ocean  presented  a  noble  feature  in  the  land- 
scape. The  air  was  serene,  or  only  ruffled  by  a  refresh- 
ing breeze  from  the  shore.  And  the  sun's  fierij  beams, 
though  departing  for  the  night,  still  preserved  such  a  por- 
tion of  light  and  warmth,  as  rendered  all  the  rest  delight- 
ful to  an  evening  traveller.  From  this  point  the  abyss, 
occasioned  by  the  great  fissure  in  the  cliff,  appeared  grand 
and  interesting.  Trees  hung  over  it  on  each  side,  pro- 
jecting no"t  only  their  branches,  but  many  of  their  roots  in 
wild  and  fantastic  forms.  Masses  of  earth  had  recently 
fallen  from  the  upper  to  the  lower  parts  of  the  precipice- 
carrying  trees  and  plants  down  the  steep  descent.  The 
character  of  the  soil,  and  the  unceasing  influence  of  the 
stream  at  the  bottom,  seemed  to  threaten  further  slips  of 
the  land  from  the  summit.  From  hence  the  gentle  mur- 
mur of  the  cascade  at  the  head  of  the  chine  stole  upon  the 
ear  without  much  interruption  to  the  quietness  of  the 
scene.  A  fine  rocky  cliff,  half  buried  in  trees,  stood  erect 
on  the  land  side  about  a  mile  distant,  and  seemed  to  vie 
with  those  on  the  shore,  in  challenging  the  passenger's 
attention.  In  the  distance  stood  a  noble  ash-tree,  which, 
on  a  considerable  height,  majestically  reigned  as  tiie  pa- 
triarch of  the  grove  near  which  it  grew.  Every  object 
combined  to  please  the  eye,  and  direct  the  traveller's  heart 


196  THE   YOUNG    COTTAGER. 

to  admire  and  love  the  Author  and  Creator  of  all  that  ifl 
beautiful  to  sense^  and  edifying  to  the  soul. 

The  next  morning  I  went  to  Jane's  cottage.  On  enter- 
ing the  door,  the  woman  who  so  frequently  visited  her,  met 
me.  and  saia  , 

"  Perhaps,  sir,  you  will  not  wake  her  just  yet ;  for  she 
has  dropped  asleep,  and  she  seldom  gets  much  rest,  poor 
girl." 

I  went  gently  up-stairs. 

Tiie  child  was  in  a  half-sitting  posture,  leaning  her  head 
upon  her  right  hand,  with  her  Bible  open  before  her.  She 
had  evidently  fallen  asleep  while  reading.  Her  counte- 
nance was  beautifully  composed  and  tranquil.  A  few 
tears  had  rolled  down  her  cheek,  and  (probably  unknown 
to  her)  dropped  upon  the  pages  of  her  book. 

1  looked  around  me  for  a  moment.  The  room  was  out- 
wardly comfortless  and  uninviting  ;  the  walls  out  of  re- 
pair ;  the  sloping  roof  somewhat  shattered ;  the  floor 
broken  and  uneven  ;  no  furniture,  but  two  tottering  bed- 
steads, a  three-legged  stool,  and  an  old  oak  chest — the 
window  broken  in  many  places,  and  mended  with  patches 
of  paper.  A  little  shelf  against  the  wall,  over  the  bed- 
stead where  Jane  lay,  served  for  her  physic,  her  food,  and 
her  books. 

"  Yet  /jere,"  I  said  to  myself,  "  lies  an  heir  of  glory, 
waiting  for  a  happy  dismissal.  Her  earthly  home  is  poor 
indeed  :  but  she  has  a  house,  not  made  with  hands,  eter- 
nal in  the  heavens.  She  has  little  to  attach  her  to  this 
world  :  but  what  a  weight  of  glory  in  the  world  to  come  ! 
This  mean,  despised  chamber  is  a  palace  in  the  eye  of 
faith,  for  it  contains  one  that  is  inheritor  of  a  crown." 

I  approached  without  waking  her,  and  observed  that 


THE   TOUXG    COTTAGER.  197 

she  liad  been  reading  the  twenty-third  chapter  of  St.  Luke. 
The  finger  of  her  left  hand  lay  upon  the  book,  pointing  to 
the  words,  as  if  she  had  been  using  it  to  guide  her  eye 
whilst  she  read. 

I  looked  at  the  place,  and  was  pleased  at  the  apparently 
casual  circumstance  of  her  finger  pointing  at  these  words  : 

"  Lord,  renumber  me,  when  thou  comest  into  thy  king- 
dom." 

"  Is  this  casual  or  designed  !"  thought  I — "  Either  way 
it  is  remarkable." 

But  m  another  moment  I  discovered  that  her  finger  was 
indeed  an  index  to  the  thoughts  of  her  heart. 

She  half  awoke  from  her  dozing  state,  but  not  sufficient- 
ly so  to  perceive  that  any  person  was  present,  and  said,  in 
a  kind  of  whisper, 

"  Lord,  remember  me — Remember  me — Remember — 
Remember  a  poor  child — Lord,  remember  me " 

She  then  suddenly  started,  and  perceived  me,  as  she 
became  fully  awake — a  faint  blush  overspread  her  cheeks 
for  a  moment,  and  then  disappeared. 

"  Dame  K ,  how  long  have  I  been  asleep  ? — Sir,  1 

am  very  sorry " 

"  And  I  am  very  glad  to  find  you  thus,"  I  replied  ;  'you 
may  say  with  David, '  I  laid  me  down  and  slept ;  I  awaked, 
for  the  Lord  sustained  me.'     What  were  you  reading  V* 

"  The  history  of  the  crucifying  of  Jesus,  sir." 

"  How  far  had  you  read  when  you  fell  asleep  ?" 

"  To  the  prayer  of  the  thief  that  was  crucified  with 
him  ;  and  when  I  came  to  that  place  I  stopped,  and  thought 
what  a  mercy  it  would  be,  if  the  Lord  Jesus  should  re- 
member me  likewise — and  so  I  fell  asleep,  and  I  fancied, 
in  my  dream,  that  I  saw  Christ  upon  the  cross  ;  and  I 
17* 


198  THE    TOUNG    COTTAGER. 

thoup-ht  I  said, '  Lord,  remember  me' — and  I  am  sure  he 
did  not  look  angry  upon  me — and  then  I  awoke." 

All  this  seemed  to  be  a  sweet  commentary  on  the  text, 
and  a  most  suitable  forerunner  of  our  intended  sacramen- 
tal service. 

"  Well,  my  dear  child,  I  am  come,  as  you  wished  me, 
to  administer  the  sacrament  of  the  body  and  blood  of  our 

bless<^d  Saviour  to  you  ;  and  I  dare  say  neighbor  K 

will  be  glad  to  join  us." 

"  Talk  to  me  a  little  about  it  first,  sir,  if  you  please." 

"  You  remember  what  you  have  learned  in  your  Cate- 
chism about  it.  Let  us  consider. — A  sacrament,  you 
know,  is  '  an  outward  and  visible  sign  of  an  inward  and 
spiritual  grace,  given  unto  us,  ordained  by  Christ  himself, 
as  a  means  whereby  we  receive  the  same,  and  a  pledge  to 
assure  us  thereof.'  Now  the  Lord  has  ordained  bread  and 
wine  in  the  holy  supper,  as  the  outward  mark,  which  we 
behold  with  our  eyes.  It  is  a  sign,  a  token,  a  seal  of  his 
love,  grace,  and  blessing,  which  he  promises  to,  and  be- 
stows on,  all  who  receive  it,  rightly  believing  on  his  name 
and  work.  He,  in  this  manner,  preserves  amongst  us  a 
'  continual  remembrance  of  his  death,  and  of  the  benefits 
which  we  receive  thereby.'  " 

"  What  do  you  believe  respecting  the  death  of  Christ, 
Jenny  ?" 

"  That  because  he  died,  sir,  we  live." 

"  What  life  do  we  live  thereby  ?" 

"  The  life  of  grace  and  mercy  now,  and  the  life  of  glory 
and  happiness  hereafter  :  is  it  not,  sir  ?" 

"  Yes,  assuredly  :  this  is  the  fruit  of  the  d^ath  of 
Christ :  and  thus  he  '  opened  the  kingdom  of  heaven  to 
all  believers.'    As  bread  and  wine  strengthen  Eind  refresh 


THE    YOUNG    COTTAGER.  199 

your  poor  weak  fainting  body  in  this  very  sickness,  so 
does  the  blessing  of  his  body  and  blood  strengthen  and  re- 
fresh the  Gouls  of  all  that  repose  their  faith,  hope,  and  af- 
fections on  Him  who  loved  us  and  gave  himself  for  us." 

Tears  ran  down  her  cheeks,  as  she  said, 

"  O  !  what  a  Saviour  ! — O  !  what  a  sinner  ! — How  kind 
— how  good  ! — And  is  this  for  me  V 

"  Fear  not,  dear  child  :  He  that  has  made  you  to  love 
him  thus,  loves  you  too  well  to  deny  you.  He  will  in  no 
wise  cast  out  any  that  come  to  him." 

"  Sir,"  said  the  girl,  "  I  can  never  think  about  Jesus 
and  his  love  to  sinners,  without  wondering  how  it  can  be. 
I  deserve  nothing  but  his  anger  on  account  of  my  sins. 
Why  then  does  he  love  me  ? — My  heart  is  evil.  Why 
then  does  he  love  me  ] — I  continually  forget  all  his  good- 
ness. Why  then  does  he  love  me  1 — I  neither  pray  to 
liim,  nor  thank  him,  nor  do  any  thing  as  I  ought  to  do. 
Why  then  such  love  to  me  !" 

"  How  plain  it  is,  that  all  is  mercy  from  first  to  last ! 
and  that  sweetens  the  blessing,  my  child.  Are  you  not 
willing  to  give  Christ  all  the  honor  of  your  salvation,  and 
to  take  all  the  blame  of  your  sins  on  your  own  self?" 

"  Yes,  indeed,  sir,  I  am.     My  hymn  says, 

'  Blest  be  the  Lord  that  sent  his  Son, 

To  take  our  flesh  and  blood  ; 

He  for  our  lives  gave  iij)  his  own, 

To  make  our  peace  with  God 

'  He  honor'd  all  his  Father's  laws, 

Which  we  have  disobey'd  ; 

He  bore  our  sins  upon  the  cross, 

And  our  full  ransom  paid." 

♦'  1  am  glad  you  remember  your  hynnis  no  wel],  Jeiiuv." 


200  THE    YOUNG    COTTAGER. 

"  Sir,  you  don't  know  what  pleasure  they  give  me.  I 
am  very  glad  you  gave  me  that  little  book  of  Hymns  for 
Children." 

A  severe  fit  of  coughing  interrupted  her  speech  for  a 
while.  The  woman  held  her  head.  It  was  distressing  to 
observe  her  struggle  for  breath,  and  almost,  as  it  v/ere, 
for  life. 

"Poor  dear  I"  said  the  woman,  "I  wish  I  could  help 
thee,  and  ease  thy  pains  :  but  they  will  not  last  for  ever." 

"  God  helps  me,"  said  the  girl,  recovering  her  breath  : 
"  God  helps  me  ;  he  will  carry  me  through.  Sir,  you  look 
frightened — I  am  not  afraid — this  is  nothing — I  am  better 
now.  Thank  you,  dame,  thank  you.  I  am  very  trouble- 
some ;  but  the  Lord  will  bless  you  for  this  and  all  your 
kindness  to  me  :  yes,  sir,  and  yours  too.  Now  talk  to  me 
again  about  the  sacrament." 

"  What  is  required,  Jenny,  of  them  who  come  to  the 
Lord's  supper  ]  There  are  five  things  named  in  the  Cate- 
chism—do you  remember  what  is  the  first  ?" 

She  paused,  and  then  said,  with  a  solemn  and  intelligent 
look, — 

"  To  examine  themselves  whether  they  repent  them 
truly  of  their  former  sins." 

"I  hope  and  think  that  you  know  what  this  means, 
Jenny :  the  Lord  has  given  you  the  spirit  of  repentance." 

"  No  one  knows,  sir,  what  the  thoughts  of  past  sin  have 
been  to  mc.  Yes,  the  Lord  knows,  and  that  is  enough : 
and  I  hope  he  forgives  me  for  Christ's  sake.  His  blood 
cleanseth  from  all  sin.  Sir,  I  sometimes  think  of  my  sins 
till  I  tremble,  and  it  makes  me  cry  to  think  that  I  have 
offended  such  a  God  :  and  then  he  comforts  me  again  with 
sweet  thoughts  about  Christ." 


THE    YOUNG    COTTAGER.  9QS' 

"  It  is  wel],  my  child — be  it  so.  The  next  thing  men- 
tioned in  that  article  of  your  Catechism,  what  is  it  ]" 

"  Steadfastly  purposing  to  lead  a  new  life." 

"  And  v/hat  do  you  think  of  that?" 

"  My  life,  sir,  will  be  a  short  one ;  and  I  wish  it  had 
been  a  better  one.  But  from  my  heart  I  desire  that  it 
may  be  a  new  one,  for  the  time  to  come.  I  want  to  forsake 
all  my  evil  ways  and  thoughts,  and  evil  words,  and  evil 
companions  ;  and  to  do  what  God  bids  me,  and  what  you 
tell  me  is  right,  sir,  and  what  I  read  of  in  my  Bible.  But 
I  am  afraid  I  do  not,  ray  heart  is  so  full  of  sin.  However, 
sir,  I  pray  to  God  to  help  me.  My  days  will  be  few ;  but 
I  wish  they  may  be  spent  to  the  glory  of  God." 

"  The  blessing  of  the  Lord  be  upon  you,  Jane  ;  so  that, 
whether  you  live,  you  may  live  to  the  Lord :  or  whether 
you  die,  you  may  die  unto  the  Lord ;  and  that,  living  or 
'^ying,  you  may  be  the  Lord's. — What  is  the  next  thing 
mentioned?" 

"  To  have  a  lively  faith  in  God's  mercy  through  Christ, 
sir." 

"  Do  you  believe  that  God  is  merciful  to  you  in  the 
pardon  of  your  sins?" 

"  I  do,  sir,"  said  the  child,  earnestly. 

"  And  if  he  pardons  you,  is  it  for  your  own  sake,  Jenny  ?" 

"  No,  sir,  no  ;  it  is  for  Christ's  sake,  for  my  Saviour  Je- 
sus Christ's  sake,  and  that  only — Christ  is  all." 

"  Can  you  trust  him?" 

"  Sir,  I  must  not  mistrust  him  ;  nor  would  I  if  I  might." 

"  Right,  child  ;  he  is  worthy  of  all  your  trust." 

"  And  then,  sir,  I  am  to  have  a  thankful  remembrance 
of  his  death.  I  can  never  think  of  his  dying,  but  I  think 
also  what  a  poor  unworthy  creature  I  am  ;  and  yet  he  is 


202  THE    YOUNG    COTTAGER. 

SO  good  to  me.  I  wish  I  could  thank  him. — Sir,  I  have 
been  reading  about  his  death.  How  could  the  people  do 
as  they  did  to  him  ? — but  it  was  all  for  our  salvation.  And 
the  thief  on  the  cross — that  is  beautiful.  I  hope  he  will 
remember  me  too,  and  that  I  shall  always  remember  him 
and  his  death  most  thankfully." 

"  And  lastly,  Jenny,  are  you  in  charity  with  all  men  ] 
Do  you  forgive  all  that  have  offended  you  ?  Do  you  bear 
ill-will  in  your  heart  to  anybody  ]" 

"  Dear  sir  !  no  ;  how  can  I  ?  If  God  is  good  to  me,  if 
he  forgives  me,  how  can  I  help  forgiving  others '?  There 
is  not  a  person  in  all  the  world,  I  think,  sir,  that  I  do  not 
wish  well  to  for  Christ's  sake,  and  that  from  the  bottom 
of  my  heart  ?" 

"  How  do  you  feel  towards  those  bold,  wanton,  ill-tem- 
pered girls  at  the  next  door,  who  jeer  and  mock  you  so 
about  your  religion?" 

"  Sir,  the  worst  thing  I  wish  them  is,  that  God  may  give 
them  grace  to  repent ;  that  he  may  change  their  hearts, 
and  pardon  all  their  wicked  ways  and  words.  May  he 
forgive  them  as  I  do  with  all  my  soul !" 

She  ceased — I  wished  to  ask  no  more.  My  heart  was 
full.  "  Can  this  be  the  religion  of  a  child  ?"  thought  I ; 
"O  that  we  were  all'children  I'.ke  her !" 

"  Reach  me  that  prayer-book,  and  the  cup  and  plate. 
My  dear  friends,  I  will  now,  with  God's  blessing,  partake 
with  you  in  the  holy  communion  of  our  Lord's  body  and 
blood." 

The  time  was  sweet  and  solemn.  I  went  through  the 
sacramental  service. 

The  countenance  and  manner  of  the  child  evinced  pow- 
erful feelings.     Tears  mingled  with  smiles  ,   resignation 


THE   YOUNG    COTTAGER.  203 

brightened  by  hope ;  humility  animated  by  faith  ;  child- 
like modesty  adorned  with  the  understanding  of  a  riper 
age  ;  gratitude,  peace,  devotion,  patience, — all  these  were 
visible.  I  thought  I  distinctly  saw  theni  all — and  did  / 
alone  see  them  1  Is  it  too  much  to  say  that  other  created 
beings,  whom  I  could  not  behold  with  my  natural  eyes, 
were  witnesses  of  the  scene  1 

]f  ministering  angels  do  ascend  and  descend  with  glad 
tidings  between  earth  and  heaven,  I  think  they  did  so  then. 

When  I  had  concluded  the  service,  I  said, 

"  Now,  my  dear  Jane,  you  are  indeed  become  a  sister  in 
the  church  of  Christ.  May  his  Spirit  and  blessing  rest 
upon  you, — strengthen  and  refresh  you  !" 

"  My  mercies  are  great,  very  great,  sir ;  greater  than  I 
can  express — I  thank  you  for  this  favor — I  thought  I  was 
too  young — it  seemed  too  much  for  me  to  think  of :  but  I 
am  now  sure  the  Lord  is  good  to  me,  and  I  hope  I  have 
lone  right." 

"  Yes,  Jenny ;  and  I  trust  you  are  both  outwardly  and 
inwardly  sealed  by  the  Holy  Ghost  to  the  day  of  redemp- 
tion." 

"  Sir,  I  shall  never  forget  this  day." 

"  Neither,  I  think,  shall  I." 

"  Nor  I,"  said  the  good  old  woman  :  "  sure  the  Lord  has 
been  in  the  midst  of  us  three  to-day,  while  we  have  been 
gathered  together  in  his  name." 

"  Sir,"  said  the  child,  "  I  wish  you  could  speak  to  my 
mother,  when  you  come  again.  But  she  keeps  out  of  your 
sight.  I  am  so  grieved  about  her  soul,  and  I  am  afraid 
she  cares  nothing  at  all  about  it  herself." 

"  I  hope  I  shall  have  an  opportunity  the  next  time  I 
come.    Farewell,  my  child." 


204  THE   YOUNG    COTTAGER. 

"  Good-by,  sir,  and  I  thank  you  for  all  your  kindness 
to  me." 

"Surely,"  I  thought  within  myself,  as  I  left  the  cottage, 
"  this  young  bud  of  grace  will  bloom  beauteously  in  Para- 
dise. The  Lord  transplant  her  thither  in  his  own  good 
time  !  Yet,  if  it  be  his  will,  may  she  live  a  little  longer, 
that  I  may  further  profit  by  her  conversation  and  example." 

Possibly,  some  who  peruse  these  simple  records  ot 
poor  little  Jane,  may  wish  the  same.  If  it  be  so,  we  will 
visit  her  again  before  she  departs  hence,  and  is  no  more 
seen. 


PART  V. 


Jane  was  hastening  fast  to  her  dissolution.  She  still, 
however,  preserved  sufficient  strength"  to  converse  with 
much  satisfaction  to  herself  and  those  who  visited  her. 
Such  as  could  truly  estimate  the  value  of  her.  spiritual 
state  of  mind  were  but  few  ;  yet  the  most  careless  could 
not  help  being  struck  with  her  affectionate  seriousness, 
her  knowledge  of  the  Scriptures,  and  her  happy  applica- 
tion of  them  to  her  own  case. 

"  The  holy  spark  divine," 

which  regenerating  grace  had  implanted  in  her  life,  had 
kindled  into  a  flame  which  warmed  and  animated  the  be- 
holder. To  some,  I  am  persuaded,  her  example  and  con- 
versation were  made  a  blessing.     Memory  reflects  with 


THE   YOUNG   COTTAGER.  205 

gratitude,  whilst  I  write,  on  the  profit  and  consolation 
which  I  individually  derived  from  her  society.  Nor  I 
alone.  The  last  day  will,  if  I  err  not,  disclose  further 
fruits,  resulting  from  the  love  of  God  to  this  little  child  ; 
and,  through  her,  to  others  that  saw  her.  And  may  not 
hope  indulge  the  prospect,  that  this  simple  memorial  of 
her  history  shall  be  as  one  arrow  drawn  from  the  quiver 
of  the  Almighty  to  reach  the  hearts  of  the  young  and  the 
thoughtless  ]  Direct  its  course,  O  my  God  !  May  the 
eye  that  reads,  and  the  ear  that  hears,  the  record  of  little 
Jane,  through  the  power  of  the  Spirit  of  the  Most  Highest, 
each  become  a  witness  for  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus  ! 

I  remembered  the  tender  solicitude  of  this  dear  child 
for  her  mother.  I  well  knew  what  an  awful  contrast  the 
dispositions  and  conduct  of  her  parents  exhibited,  when 
compared  with  her  own. 

I  resolved  to  avail  myself  of  the  first  opportunity  I  could 
seize  to  speak  to  the  mother  in  the  child's  presence.  The 
woman  had  latterly  avoided  me,  conscious  of  deserving, 
and  fearful  of  receiving,  reproof.  The  road  by  which  I 
usually  approached  the  house,  lay,  for  some  little  distance, 
sufficiently  in  sight  of  its  windows,  to  enable  the  woman 
to  retire  out  of  the  way  before  I  arrived.  There  was, 
however,  another  path,  through  fields  at  the  back  of  the 
village,  which,  owing  to  the  situation  of  the  ground,  al- 
lowed of  an  approach  unperceived,  till  a  visiter  reached 
the  very  cottage  itself. 

One  morning,  soon  after  the  sacramental  interview  re- 
lated in  my  last  paper,  I  chose  this  road  for  my  visit.  It 
was  preferable  to  me  on  every  account.  The  distance 
was  not  quite  half  a  mile  from  my  house.  The  path  was 
retired.  I  hereby  avoided  the  noise  and  interruption 
18 


206  THE   YOUNG   COTTAGER. 

which  even  a  village  street  will  sometimes  present  to  dis- 
turb the  calmness  of  interesting  meditation. 

As  I  passed  through  the  churchyard,  and  cast  my  eye 
on  the  memorable  epitaph,  "Soon,"  1  thought  within  me, 
"  will  my  poor  little  Jane  mingle  her  mouldering  remains 
with  this  dust,  and  sleep  with  her  fathers  !  Soon  will  the 
youthful  tongue,  which  now  lisps  Hosannas  to  the  Son  of 
David,  and  delights  my  heart  with  the  evidences  of  early 
piety  and  grace,  be  silent  in  the  earth  !  Soon  shall  I  be 
called  to  commit  her  '  body  to  the  ground,  earth  to  earth, 
ashes  to  ashes,  dust  to  dust.'  But  O  !  what  a  glorious 
change  !  Her  spirit  shall  have  then  returned  to  God  which 
gave  it.  Her  soul  will  be  joining  the  hallelujahs  of  Para- 
dise, while  we  sing  her  requiem  at  the  grave.  And  her 
very  dust  shall  here  wait,  '  in  sure  and  certain  hope  of  a 
joyful  resurrection  from  the  dead.'  " 

I  went  through  the  fields  without  meeting  a  single  in- 
dividual. I  enjoyed  the  retirement  of  my  solitary  walk  : 
various  surrounding  objects  contributed  to  excite  useful 
meditation,  connected  with  the  great  subjects  of  time  and 
eternity.  Here  and  there  a  drooping  flower  reminded  me 
of  the  fleeting  nature  of  mortal  life.  Sometimes  a  shady 
spot  taught  me  to  look  to  Him  who  is  "a  shadow  in  the 
day-time  from  the  heat,  and  for  a  place  of  refuge,  and  for 
a  covert  from  storm  and  from  rain."  If  a  worm  crept 
across  ray  path,  I  saw  an  emblem  of  myself  as  I  am  now ; 
and  the  winged  insects,  fluttering  in  the  sunbeams,  led 
me  comparatively  to  reflect  on  what  I  hoped  to  be  liere- 
after. 

The  capacious  mansion  of  a  rich  neighbor  appeared  on 
the  right  hand,  as  I  walked  ;  on  my  left  were  the  cottages 
of  the  poor.    The  church  spire  pointing  to  heaven  a  little 


I 


THE   YOUNG   COTTAGER.    '  207 

beyond,  seemed  to  say  to  both  the  rich  and  the  poor, 
"  Set  your  affections  on  things  above,  not  on  things  on  the 
earth." 

All  these  objects  afforded  me  useful  meditation ;  and  all 
obtained  an  increased  value,  as  such,  because  they  lay  in 
my  road  to  the  house  of  little  Jane. 

1  was  now  arrived  at  the  stile  nearly  adjoining  her 
dwelling.  The  upper  window  was  open,  and  I  soon  dis- 
tinguished the  sound  of  voices  :  I  was  glad  to  hear  that 
of  the  mother.  I  entered  the  house-door  unperceived  by 
those  above  stairs,  and  sat  down  below,  not  wishing  as  yet 
to  interrupt  a  conversation  which  quickly  caught  my  ear. 

"  Mother  !  mother  !  I  have  not  long  to  live.  My  time 
will  be  very  short.  But  I  must,  indeed  I  must,  say  some- 
thing for  your  sake,  before  I  die.  O  mother  !  you  have  a 
soul — you  have  a  soul ;  and  what  will  become  of  it  when 
you  die  ?"  O  my  mother !  I  am  so  uneasy  about  your 
soul — " 

"O  dear!  I  shall  lose  my  child — she  will  die — and 
what  shall  I  do  when  you  are  gone,  my  Jenny?"  She 
sobbed  aloud. 

"  Mother,  think  about  your  soul.  Have  not  you  ne- 
glected that  r' 

"  Yes,  I  have  been  a  wicked  creature,  and  hated  all  that 
was  good.     What  can  I  do?" 

"  Mother,  you  must  pray  to  God  to  pardon  you  for 
Christ's  sake.     You  must  pray." 

"  Jenny,  my  child,  I  cannot  pray ;  I  never  did  pray  in 
all  my  life.     I  am  too  wicked  to  pray." 

"  Mother,  I  have  been  wanting  to'speak  to  you  a  long 
time.  But  I  was  afraid  to  do  it.  You  did  not  like  me  to 
say  any  thing  about  religion,  and  I  did  not  know  how  to 


208  THE   YOUNG    COTTAGER. 

begin.     But  indeed,  mother,  I  must  speak  now,  or  it  may 

be  too  late.     I  wish  Mr. was  here,  for  he  could  talk 

to  you  better  than  I  can.  But  perhaps  you  will  think  of 
what  I  say,  poor  as  it  is,  when  I  am  dead.  I  am  but  a 
young  child,  and  not  fit  to  speak  about  such  things  to  any- 
body. But,  mother,  you  belong  to  me,  and  I  cannot  bear 
to  think  of  your  perishing  for  ever.  My  Lord  and  Saviour 
has  shown  me  my  own  sin  and  corruptions :  he  loved  me 
and  gave  himself  for  me  :  he  died  and  he  rose  again  :  I 
want  to  praise  him  for  it  for  ever  and  ever.  I  hope  I  shall 
see  him  in  heaven ;  but  I  want  to  see  you  there  too, 
mother.  Do,  pray  do,  leave  off  swearing  and  other  bad 
ways  :  go  to  church,  and  hear  our  minister  speak  about 
Jesus  Christ,  and  what  he  has  done  for  wicked  sinners. 
He  wishes  well  to  souls.  He  taught  me  the  way,  and  he 
will  teach  you,  mother.  Why  did  you  always  go  out  of 
the  house  when  you  knew  he  was  coming?  Do  not  be 
angry  with  me,  mother  ;  I  only  speak  for  your  good.  I 
was  once  as  careless  as  you  are  about  the  things  of  God. 
But  I  have  seen  my  error.  I  was  in  the  broad  road  lead- 
ing to  destruction,  like  many  other  children  in  the  parish; 
and  the  Lord  saw  me  and  had  mercy  upon  me." 

"Yes,  my  child,  you  was  always  a  good  girl,  and  minded 
your  book." 

"  No,  mother,  no ;  not  always.  I  cared  nothing  about 
goodness,  nor  my  Bible,  till  the  minister  came  and  sent 
for  us,  as  you  know,  on  Saturday  afternoons.  Don't  you 
remember,  mother,  that  at  first  you  did  not  like  me  to  go, 
and  said  you  would  have  no  such  godly  pious  doings  about 
your  house  ;  and  that  I  had  better  play  about  the  streets 
and  fields  than  be  laughed  at  and  made  game  of  for  pre- 
tending to  be  so  good  ?     Ah,  mother,  you  did  not  know 


THE    YOUNG    COTTAGER.  209 

what  I  went  for,  and  what  God  designed  for  me  and  my 
poor  sinful  soul.  But,  thank  God,  I  did  go,  and  there 
learned  the  way  of  salvation.  Mother,  I  wish  you  had 
learned  too." 

As  I  listened  to  this  affecting  conversation,  it  appeared 
to  me,  from  the  tone  and  manner  of  the  mother's  voice, 
that  she  was  more  under  the  influence  of  temporary  grief, 
on  account  of  her  child's  extreme  illness,  than  sincere 
sorrow  from  any  real  sense  of  her  sins.  I  however  hoped 
the  best,  and  rejoiced  to  hear  such  weighty  and  important 
exhortation  dropping  from  her  daughter's  lips.  I  felt  that 
present  circumstances  rendered  it  far  more  valuable  than 
my  own  could  have  been. 

I  have  often,  since  that  time,  seen  the  wicked  and  care- 
less much  affected,  while  sitting  by  the  dying  bed  of  a 
near  relative  :  I  have  witnessed  their  temporary  acknow- 
ledg-Aients  of  sin,  and  heard  their  professions  of  amend- 
ment. But  after  a  short  season,  all  has  passed  away  like 
the  morning  dew.  The  friend  has  been  buried  out  of 
sight.  The  world  and  its  cares,  the  flesh  and  its  sins, 
have  returned  with  new  temptations,  and  the  eloquence 
of  iniquity  has  prevailed  over  the  voice  of  truth.  "The 
dog  has  returned  to  his  vomit,  and  the  sow  to  her  wallow- 
ing in  the  mire." 

On  the  other  hand,  how  frequently  have  the  death-beds 
of  true  believers  been  blessed  to  the  eye-witness  of  the 
triumphs  of  grace  over  sin,  death,  and  hell !  Often  has 
the  careless  bystander  received  the  first  saving  impression 
of  divine  truth,  whilst  the  dying  Christian  has  experienced 
and  testified  the  supports  of  love  and  mercy,  in  the  trying' 
hour.  At  such  seasons,  faith  wields  a  bright  and  burning 
torch,  which  occasionally  softens  the  hardest,  and  warms 
18* 


210  THE    YOUNG    COTTAGER. 

the  coldest  heart.  The  expressions  of  that  heavenly  con- 
solation and  devout  solicitude,  which  the  Holy  Spirit 
vouchsafes  to  some,  thus  become  the  happy  means  of 
grace  and  blessing  for  the  conversion  and  edification  of 
others. 

"He  that  hath  an  ear,  let  him  hear  what  the  Spirit 
saith  unto  the  churches  !" 

At  this  moment  the  house-door  opened,  and  a  younger 
child,  a  brother  of  Jane's,  came  in.  The  mother  asked 
from  above  who  it  was  :  the  boy  replied,  and,  without  fur- 
ther inquiry,  she  remained  in  the  chamber.  I  beckoned 
to  the  lad  to  sit  down  quietly ;  and  thus  it  still  remained 
unknown  that  I  was  below. 

"Mother,"  continued  Jane,  "that  is  my  brother,  and 
will  soon  be  your  only  remaining  child.  Do,  pray,  en- 
courage him  to  follow  good  ways.     Send  him  to  Mr. , 

and  he  will  be  kind  to  him,  as  he  has  been  to  me. 
He  is  a  wild  boy,  but  I  hope  he  will  be  brought  to  think 
about  his  soul  in  time.  Those  naughty  wicked  boys  teach 
him  to  swear  and  fight,  and  run  after  all  manner  of  evil. 
Lord,  help  him  to  fTee  from  the  wrath  to  come  !" 

I  made  a  sign  to  the  boy  to  listen  to  what  his  sister  said 
concerning  him.  He  seemed  to  hear  with  attention,  and 
a  tear  dropped  down  his  cheek. 

"  Ay,  Jenny,  it  is  to  be  hoped  he  will,  and  that  we  all 
shall  likewise." 

"  Mother,  then  you  must  flee  to  Christ.  Nothing  you 
can  do  will  save  you  without  that.  You  must  repent  and 
turn  from  sin — without  the  grace  of  God  you  cannot  do  it ; 
but  seek,  and  you  shall  find  it.  Do,  for  your  own  sake, 
and  for  my  sake,  and  my  little  brother's  sake." 

The  woman  wept  and  sobbed  without  replying.     I  now 


THE    YOUNG    COTTAGER.  211 

thought  it  time  to  appear,  went  to  the  bottom  of  the  stairs, 
and  said,  "May  a  friend  come  upT' 

"Mercy  on  me  !"  said  the  mother,  "there  is  Mr. ." 

"  Come  in^  sir,"  said  Jane ;  "  I  am  very  glad  you  are 
come  nolo.     Mother,  set  a  chair." 

The  woman  look  confused.  Jane  smiled  as  I  entered, 
and  welcomed  me  as  usual. 

"  I  hope  I  shall  be  forgiven,  both  by  mother  and 
daughter,  for  having  remained  so  long  below  stairs,  during 
the  conversation  which  has  just  taken  place.  I  came  in 
the  hope  of  finding  you  together,  as  1  have  had  a  wish  for 
some  time  past  to  speak  to  you,  Sarah,  on  the  same  sub- 
jects, about  which  I  am  happy  to  say  your  daughter  is  so 
anxious.  You  have  long  neglected  these  things,  and  I 
wished  to  warn  you  of  the  danger  of  your  state — but  Jenny 
has  said  all  I  could  desire,  and  I  now  solemnly  ask  you, 
whether  you  are  not  much  affected  by  your  poor  child's 
faithful  conversation  'J  You  ought  to  have  been  her  teacher 
and  instructor  in  the  ways  of  righteousness ;  whereas 
now  she  has  become  yours.  Happy,  however,  will  it  be 
for  you  if  you  are  wise,  and  consider  your  latter  end,  and 
the  things  which  belong  to  your  peace,  before  they  are 
hidden  from  your  eyes  !  Look  at  your  dying  child,  and 
think  of  your  other  and  only  remaining  one,  and  say  whether 
this  sight  does  not  call  aloud  upon  you  to  hear  and  fear." 

Jane's  eyes  were  filled  with  tears  whilst  I  spoke.  The 
woman  hung  her  head  down,  but  betrayed  some  emotions 
of  dislike  at  the  plain  dealing  used  towards  her. 
"My  child  Jenny,"  said  I,  "how  are  you  to-day  V 
"Sir,  I  have  been  talking  a  good  deal,  and  feel  rather 
faint  and  weary,  but  my  mind  has  been  very  en?y  and 
happy  since  I  last  saw  you.     I  am  quite  willing  to  die, 


212  THE    YOUNG    COTTAGER. 

when  the  Lord  sees  fit.  I  have  no  wish  to  live,  except  it 
be  to  see  my  friends  in  a  better  way  before  I  depart.  Sir, 
I  used  to  be  afraid  to  speak  to  them ;  but  I  feel  to-day  as 
if  I  could  hold  my  peace  no  longer,  and  I  must  tell  them 
what  the  Lord  has  done  for  my  soul,  and  what  I  feel  for 
theirs." 

There  was  a  firmness,  I  may  say,  a  dignity,  with  which 
this  was  uttered,  that  surprised  me.  The  character  of  the 
child  seemed  to  be  lost  in  that  of  the  Christian  :  her  natu- 
ral timidity  yielded  to  a  holy  assurance  of  manner,  result- 
ing from  her  own  inward  consolations,  mingled  with 
spiritual  desire  for  her  mother's  welfare.  This  pro- 
duced a  flush  upon  her  otherwise  pallid  countenance, 
whirh  in  no  small  degree  added  to  her  interesting  ap- 
pearance. The  Bible  lay  open  before  her  as  she  sat 
up  in  the  bed.  With  her  right  hand  she  enclosed  her 
mother's. 

"  Mother,  this  book  you  cannot  read  :  you  should  there- 
fore go  constantly  to  church,  that  you  may  hear  it  ex- 
plained. It  is  God's  book,  and  tells  us  the  way  to 
heaven  ;  I  hope  you  will  learn  and  mind  it ;  with  God's 
blessing  it  may  yet  save  your  soul.  Do  think  of  that,  mo- 
ther, pray  do.  1  am  soon  going  to  die.  Give  this  Bible 
to  my  brother  :  and  Will  you  be  so  kind,  sir,  as  to  instruct 
him  ]  Mother,  remember  what  I  say,  and  this  gentleman 
is  witness  :  there  is  no  salvation  for  sinners  like  you  and 
me  but  in  the  blood  of  Christ ;  he  is  able  to  save  to  the 
uttermost ;  he  will  save  all  that  come  to  him  ;  he  waits 
to  be  gracious  ;  cast  yourself  upon  his  mercy.  I  wish — 
I  wish— I— I— I—" 

She  was  quite  overcome,  and  sunk  away  in  a  kind  of 
fainting  fit. 


THE    YOUNG    COTTAGER.  213 

Her  mother  observed,  that  she  would  now  probably  re- 
main insensible  for  some  time,  before  she  recovered. 

I  improved  this  interval  in  a  serious  address  to  the 
woman,  and  then  prepared  to  take  my  departure,  perceiv- 
ing that  Jane  was  too  much  exhausted  for  further  conver- 
sation at  that  time. 

As  I  was  leaving  the  room,  the  child  said  faintly,  "  Come 
again  soon,  sir  ;  my  time  is  very  short." 

I  returned  home  by  the  same  retired  road  which  I  had 
before  chosen.  I  silently  meditated  on  the  eminent  proofs 
of  piety  and  faith  which  were  just  aflbrded  me  in  the 
scene  I  had  witnessed. 

Surely,  I  thought,  this  is  an  extraordinary  child  !  What 
cannot  grace  accomplish  ]  Is  it  possible  to  doubt,  after 
this,  who  is  the  alone  Author  and  Finisher  of  salvation  ; 
or  from  w1io7n  cometh  every  good  and  perfect  gift  1  How 
rich  and  free  is  the  mercy  of  Jehovah  !  Hath  not  he 
"chosen  the  weak  things  of  the  world  to  confound  the 
things  which  are  mighty  ]  Let  no  flesh  glory  in  his  pre- 
sence ;  but  he  that  glorieth,  let  him  glory  in  the  Lord." 


PART  VL 


The  truth  and  excellence  of  the  religion  of  Jesus  Clirist 
appears  to  be  remarkably  established  by  the  union  of  simi- 
larity with  variety,  in  the  effect  which  it  produces  on  the 
hearts  and  lives  of  true  believers.  In  the  grand  and  es- 
sential features  of  Christian  experience,  the  whole  house- 


214  THE   YOUNG    COTTAGER. 

hold  of  God  possess  an  universal  sameness  of  character,  a 
family  likeness,  which  distinguishes  them  from  all  the 
v/orld  besides  ;  yet,  in  numerous  particulars,  there  also 
exists  a  beautiful  variety. 

On  the  one  hand,  in  the  aged  and  the  young,  in  the  wise 
and  the  unlearned,  in  the  rich  and  the  poor  ;  in  those  of 
stronger  and  weaker  degrees  of  mental  capacity,  in  more 
sanguine  or  more  sedate  dispositions  ;  and  in  a  multitude 
of  otherwise  varying  circumstances,  there  is  a  striking 
conformity  of  principles  and  feeling  to  Christ,  and  to  each 
other.  Like  the  flowers  of  the  field  and  the  garden,  they 
are  "  all  rooted  and  grounded"  in  the  soil  of  the  same 
earth  ;  they  are  warmed  by  the  same  sun,  refreshed  by  the 
same  air,  and  watered  by  the  same  dews.  They  each  de- 
rive nourishment,  growth,  and  increase  from  the  same  life- 
giving  Source.  x\s  the  flower  puts  forth  its  leaves  and 
petals,  adorns  the  place  which  it  inhabits  with  its  beauty, 
and  possesses  an  internal  system  of  qualities,  w'hereby  it 
is  enabled  to  bring  forth  its  seed  or  fruit,  in  the  appointed 
season  ;  so  does  the  Christian. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  like  the  flowers  also,  some 
Christians  may  be  said  to  grow  on  the  mountain  tops, 
some  in  valleys,  some  in  the  waters,  and  others  in  dry 
ground.  Different  colors,  forms,  and  sizes,  distinguish 
them  from  each  other,  and  produce  a  diversity  of  charac- 
ter and  appearance,  which  affords  a  delightful  variety,  both 
for  the  purposes  of  use  and  beauty.  Yet  is  that  variety 
perfectly  consistent  with  their  essential  unity  of  nature 
in  the  vegetable  kingdom,  to  which  they  all  equally 
belong. 

In  another  particular  they  likewise  resemble.  They 
both  die  a  natural  death.     Tiio  Lord  ever  preserves  "  a 


THE   YOUNG   COTTAGER.  215 

seeo  )  br^Tve  him,"  from  generation  to  generation  ;  for 
as  Oh'  ^..fcapj^ears,  another  springs  up  to  supply  his  place. 
But  "  it  js  appointed  unto  all  men  once  to  die." — "  Man 
Cometh  forth  like  b.  flv.wc'*,  and  is  cut  down ;  he  fleeth  as 
a  shadow,  and  cont-:nc;ei'i  rot." — "  All  flesh  is  as  grass, 
and  all  the  glcv  ^i  man  as  the  flower  of  the  grass.  The 
grass  withereth,  and  the  flovt.' tl.srcof  falleth  away." 

In  the  midst  of  such  diverbitj-  of  Christian  characters 
there  is  much  to  love  and  aaiiiho.  I  have  selected  the 
case  of  little  Jane,  as  one  not  undcsv.  n  hig  of  notice. 

It  is  true,  she  was  only  a  child— a  vc/y  poor  child — but 
a  child  saved  by  divine  grace,  enlightencu  with  the  purest 
knowledge,  and  adorned  with  unaflhcfed  holiness, — she 
was  a  child,  humble,  meek,  and  lowly.  She  "  found  grace 
in  the  eyes  of  the  Lord,"  while  she  W8S  on  earth  ;  and,  I 
doubt  not,  will  be  seen  on  his  right  hand  at  the  last  day. 
As  such,  there  is  preciousness  in  the  character,  which  will 
account  for  my  attempting  once  more  to  write  concerning 
her,  and  describe  her  last  moments  before  she  went  to  her 
final  rest. 

At  a  very  early  hour  on  the  morning  of  the  following 
day,  I  was  awoke  by  the  arrival  of  a  messenger,  bringing 
an  earnest  request  that  I  wouM  immediately  go  to  the 
child,  as  her  end  appeared  to  be  just  approaching. 

It  was  not  yet  day  when  I  left  my  house  to  obey  the 
summons.  The  morning  star  shone  conspicuously  clear. 
The  moon  cast  a  mild  light  over  the  prospect,  but  grad- 
ually diminished  in  brightness  as  the  eastern  sky  became 
enlightened.  The  birds  were  beginning  their  songs,  and 
seemed  ready  to  welcome  the  sun's  approach.  The  dew 
plentifully  covered  the  fields,  and  hung  suspended  in  drops 
from  the  trees  and  hedges.    A  few  early  laborers  appear- 


216  THE    YOUNG    COTTAGER. 

ed  in  the  lanes,  travelling  towards  the  scene  of  t'neir  daily 
occupations. 

All  besides  was  still  and  calm.  My  mind,  as  I  pro- 
ceeded, was  deeply  exercised  by  thoughts  concerning  the 
affecting  events  which  I  expected  soon  to  witness. 

The  rays  of  the  morning  star  were  not  so  beautiful  in 
my  sight,  as  the  spiritual  lustre  of  this  young  Christian's 
character.  "  Her  night  was  far  spent ;"  the  morning  of  a 
"  better  day  was  at  hand."  The  sun  of  eternal  blessed- 
ness was  ready  to  break  upon  her  soul  with  rising  glory. 
Like  the  moon,  which  I  saw  above  me,  this  child's  exem- 
plary deportment  had  gently  cast  a  useful  light  over  the 
neighborhood  where  she  dwelt.  Like  this  moon,  she  had 
for  a  season  been  permitted  to  shine  amidst  the  surround- 
ing darkness  ;  and  her  rays  were  also  reflected  from  a  lu- 
minary, in  whose  native  splendor  hor  own  would  quickly 
be  blended  and  lost. 

The  air  was  cool,  but  the  breezes  of  the  morning  were 
refreshing,  and  seemed  to  foretell  the  approach  of  a  beau- 
tiful day.  Being  accustomed,  in  my  walks,  to  look  for  sub- 
jects of  improving  thought  and  association,  I  found  them 
in  every  direction  around  me,  as  I  hastened  onward  to  the 
house  where  Jane  lay,  waiting  for  a  dismissal  from  her 
earthly  dwelling. 

I  felt  that  the  twilight  gravity  of  nature  was,  at  that 
hour,  peculiarly  appropriate  to  the  circumstances  of  the 
case  :  and  the  more  so,  because  that  twilight  was  signifi- 
cantly adorned  with  the  brilliant  sparklings  of  the  star  on 
one  hand,  and  the  clear  pale  lustre  of  the  waning  moon 
on  the  other. 

When  I  arrived  at  the  house,  I  found  no  one  below  ;  I 
paused   a  few  minutes,  and  lieard  the  girl's  voice  very 


THE    YOUNG    COTTAGER.  217 

faintly  saying,  "  Do  you  think  he  will  come  1  I  should  be 
80  glad — so  very  glad  to  see  him  before  I  die." 

1  ascended  the  stairs — her  father,  mother,  and  brother, 
together  with  the  elderly  woman  before  spoken  of,  were 
in  the  chamber.  Jane's  countenance  bore  the  marks  of 
speedy  dissolution.  Yet,  although  death  was  manifest  in 
the  languid  features,  there  was  something  more  than  ever 
interesting  in  the  whole  of  her  external  aspect.  The  mo- 
ment she  saw  me,  a  renewed  vigor  beamed  in  her  eye — 
grateful  affection  sparkled  in  the  dying  face. 

Although  she  had  spoken  just  before  I  entered,,  yet  for 
some  time  afterward  she  was  silent,  but  never  took  her 
eyes  off  me.  There  was  animation  in  her  look — there  was 
more — something  like  a  foretaste  of  heaven  seemed  to  be 
felt,  and  gave  an  inexpressible  character  of  spiritual 
beauty,  even  in  death. 

At  length  she  said,  "  This  is  very  kind,  sir, — I  am  going 
fast — I  was  afraid  I  should  never  see  you  again  in  this 
world." 

I  said,  "My  child,  are  you  resigned  tO'die?" 

"  Quite." 

"Where  is  your  hope]" 

She  lifted  up  her  finger,  pointed'  to  heaven,  and' then 
directed  the  same  downward  to  her  own  heart,  saying  suc- 
cessively as  she  did  so,  "  Christ  there,  and  Christ  liei'c.'* 

These  words,  accompanied  by  the  action,  spoke  her 
meaning  more  solemnly  than  can  easily  be  conceived. 

A  momentary  spasm  took  place. — Looking  towards  her 
weeping  mother,  she  said,  "  I  am  very  cold — but  it  is  no 
matter — it  will  soon  be  over "' 

She  closed  her  eyes  for  about  a  minute,,  and,  on  opening 
them  again,  said,  "  I  wish,  sir,  when  I  am  gpne,  you  would 
1& 


218  THE   YOUNG    COTIAGER. 

tell  the  other  children  of  the  parish,  how  good  the  Lord 
has  been  to  me,  a  poor  sinner — tell  them,  that  they  who 
•seek  him  early  will  find  him — tell  them,  that  the  ways  of 

■  Bin  and  ignorance  are  the  ways  to  ruin  and  hell — and  pray 
tell  them,  sir,  from  me,  that  Christ  is  indeed  the  Way,  the 
Truth,  and  the  Life — he  will  in  no  wise  cast  out  any  that 

.come. — Tell  them  that  I,  a  poor  girl " 

She  was  quite  exhausted,  and  sank  for  a  while  into  a 
Ttorpid  state,  from  which,  however,  she  recovered  gradually, 
uttering  these  expressions  :  "  Where  am  I  ? — I  thought  I 
•was  goi-ng — Lord,  save  me  !" 

"  My  dear  child,  you  will  soon  be  for  ever  in  his  arms, 
who  is  now  guiding  you  by  his  rod  and  staff  through  the 
'Valley  of  the  shadow  of  death." 

"I  believe  so,  indeed  I  do,"  said  she;  "I  long  to  be 
'  with  him ! — O  how  good,  how  great,  how  merciful ! — Jesus, 
save  me,  help  me  through  this  last  trial." 

She  then  gave  one  hand  to  her  father,  the  other  to  her 

■  mother,  and  said,  "  God  bless  you,  God  bless  you — seek 
the  Lord, — think  ^f  me,  when  I  am  gone — it  may  be  for 
your  good — remember  your  souls — O!  for  Christ's  sake 
remember  your  souls — then  all  may  be  well — ^you  cannot 

'  know  what  I  have  felt  for  both  of  you — Lord,  pardon  and 

•  save  my  dear  father  and  mother  !" 

She  then  took  hold  of  her  brother's  hand,  saying, 
"Thomas,  I  beg  you  to  leave  off  your  bad  ways — read  the 
Bible— I  give  you  mine — I  have  found  it  a  precious  book. 
Do  you  not  remember  our  little  brother,  who  died  some 
years  since? — he  was  praying  to  the  last  moment  of  his 
life.  Learn  to  pray,  while  you  are  in  health,  and  you  will 
find  the  comfort  and  power  of  it  when  you  come  to  die  ; 
but,  fir£t  of  all,  pray  for  a  nev/  heart — without  it  you  never 


THE   YOUNG    COTTAGER.  219 

wil\  see  God  in  heaven — your  present  ways  lead  to  misery 
and  ruin — may  the  Lord  turn  your  heart  to  love  and  fol- 
low him  !" 

To  the  other  woman  she  said,    "  I  thank  you,  Dame 

K ,  for  all  your  kindness,  since  I  have  been  ill — you 

have  been  a  Christian  friend  to  me,  and  I  hope  the  Lord 
will  remember  you  for  it,  according  to  his  rich  mercy  : — 
you  and  I  have  many  a  time  talked  together  about  death ; 
and  though  I  am  the  youngest,  he  calls  me  first  to  pass 
through  it :  but,  blessed  be  his  name,  I  am  not  terrified. 
I  once  thought  I  never  could  die  without  fear  ;  but  indeed 
I  feel  quite  happy,  now  it  is  come  ;  and  so  will  you,  if  you 
trust  him — he  is  the  God  both  of  the  old  and  the  young." 

"  Ah,  my  child  !"  said  the  woman,  "  I  wish  I  was  as  fit  to 
die  as  you  are  ;  but  I  fear  that  will  never  be — my  sins 
have  been  many,  very  many." 

"  Christ's  blood  cleansetli  from  all  sin,"  said  the  child. 

At  this  moment,  instead  of  growing  weaker,  through 
the  fatigue  of  so  much  speaking,  she  seemed  to  gather 
fresh  strength.  She  turned  to  me  with  a  look  of  surpris- 
ing earnestness  and  animation,  saying, 

"  You,  sir,  have  been  my  best  friend  on  earth — you  have 
taught  me  the  way  to  heaven,  and  I  love  and  thank  you 
for  it — you  have  borne  with  my  weakiiess  and  my  igno- 
rance— ^you  have  spoken  to  me  of  the  love  of  Christ,  and 
he  has  made  me  to  feel  it  in  my  heart — I  shall  see  him 
face  to  face — he  will  never  leave  me  nor  forsake  me — 
he  is  the  same,  and  changes  not.  Dear  sir,  God  bless 
you." 

The  child  suddenly  rose  up,  with  an  unexpected  exer- 
tion, threw  her  livid,  wasted  arms  around  me,  as  I  sat  on 
the  bedside,  laid  her  head  on  my  shoulder,  and  said  dis- 


220  THE    YOUNG   COTTAGER. 

tinctly,  "  God  bless  and  reward  you — give  thanks  for  me 
to  Him — my  soul  is  saved — Christ  is  every  thing-  to  me. 
Sir,  we  shall  meet  in  heaven,  shall  we  not  ? — O  yes,  yes 
— ^then  all  will  be  peace — peace — peace — " 

She  sank  back  on  the  bed,  and  spoke  no  more — fetched 
a  deep  sigh — smiled — and  died. 

At  this  affecting  moment  the  rays  of  the  morning  sun 
darted  into  the  room,  and  filled  my  imagination  with  the 
significant  emblem  of  "  the  tender  mercy  of  God,  whereby 
the  day-spring  from  on  high  hath  visited  us,  to  give  light 
to  them  that  sit  in  darkness  and  in  the  shadow  of  death,  to 
guide  our  feet  into  the  way  of  peace." 

It  was  a  beam  of  light,  that  seemed  at  once  to  describe 
the  glorious  change  which  her  soul  had  now  alread}^  ex- 
perienced ;  and,  at  the  same  time,  to  shed  the  promised 
consolations  of  hope  over  the  minds  of  those  who  witnessed 
her  departure. 

This  was  an  incident  obviously  arising  from  a  natural 
cause  ;  but  one  which  irresistibly  connected  itself  with  the 
.spiritual  circumstances  of  the  case. 

For  some  time  I  remained  silently  gazing  on  the  breath- 
less corpse,  and  could  hardly  persuade  myself  that  Jane 
was  indeed  no  longer  there. 

As  1  returned  homeward,  1  found  it  difficult  to  repress 
the  strong  feelings  of  aflcction,  which  such  a  scene  had 
excited.  Neither  did  I  wish  it.  Religion,  reason,  and  ex- 
perience, rather  bid  us  indulge,  in  due  place  and  season, 
those  tender  emotions  which  keep  the  heart  alive  to  its 
most  valuable  sensibilities.  To  check  them  serves  but  to 
harden  the  mind,  and  close  the  avenues  which  lead  to  the 
sources  of  our  best  principles  of  action. 

Jesus  himself  2oept  over  the  foreseen  sorrows  of  Jerusa- 


THE   YOUNG    COTTAGER.  221 

lem.  He  ivept  also  at  the  grave  of  his  friend  Lazarus. 
Such  an  example  consecrates  the  tear  of  affection,  while 
it  teaches  us,  "  concerning  them  which  are  asleep,  not  to 
sorrow,  as  those  which  have  no  hope." 

I  soon  fell  into  meditation  on  the  mysterious  subject 
of  the  flight  of  a  soul  from  this  world  to  that  of  departed 
spirits. 

"  Swifter  than  an  arrow  from  the  bow,  or  than  the  rays 
of  light  from  the  sun,  has  this  child's  spirit  hastened,  in 
obedience  to  its  summons  from  God,  to  appear  in  his  im- 
mediate presence.  How  solemn  a  truth  is  this  for  uni- 
versal consideration !  But,  '  washed  in  the  blood  of  the 
Lamb  that  was  slain,'  and  happily  made  partaker  of  its 
purifying  efficacy,  she  meets  her  welcome  at  the  throne 
of  God.  She  has  nothing  to  fear  from  the  frowns  of  divine 
justice.  Sin,  death,  and  hell,  are  all  vanquished  through 
the  power  of  Him  who  hath  made  her  more  than  conqueror. 
He  will  himself  present  her  to  his  Father,  as  one  of  the 
purchased  lambs  of  his  flock — as  one  whom  the  Spirit  of 
God  '  has  sealed  unto  the  day  of  redemption.' 

"  What  a  change  for  her  !  from  that  poor  tattered  cham- 
ber to  the  regions  of  Paradise  !  from  a  bed  of  straw  to  the 
bosom  of  Abraham  !  from  poverty,  sickness,  and  pain,  to 
eternal  riches,  health,  and  joy !  from  the  condition  of  a 
decayed  weary  pilgrim  in  this  valley  of  tears,  to  that  of  a 
happy  traveller  safely  arrived  at  home,  in  the  rest  that  re 
raaineth  to  the  people  of  God  ! 

"  I  have  lost  a  young  disciple,  endeared  to  me  by  a  truly 
parental  tie.  Yet  how  can  I  complain  of  that  as  lost, 
which  God  has  found  1  Her  willing  and  welcome  voice  no 
longer  seeks  or  imparts  instruction  here.  But  it  is  far 
better  employed.  The  angels,  who  rejoiced  over  her  when 
19* 


Z2SS  THE    YOUNG    COTTAGER. 

her  soui  tirst  turned  to  God,  who  watched  the  process  of 
her  short  pilgrimage,  and  who  have  now  carried  her  tri- 
umphantly to  the  heavenly  hills,  have  already  taught  her 
to  join 

'  In  holy  song,  their  own  immortal  strains.' 
Why  then  should  I  mourn  1    The  whole  prospect,  as  it 
concerns  her,  is  filled  with  joy  and  immortality,  '  Death  is 
swallowed  up  in  victory.'  " 

As  I  looked  upon  the  dew-drops  which  rested  on  the 
grass  and  hung  from  the  branches  of  the  trees,  I  observ- 
ed that  the  sun's  rays  first  filled  them  with  beautiful  and 
varied  colors  ;  then  dried  them  up.  and  they  were  seen  no 
longer. 

Thus  it  was  with  myself.  The  tears  which  I  neither 
would  nor  could  restrain,  when  I  first  began  thus  to  re- 
flect on  the  image  of  the  dying  chamber  of  little  Jane, 
were  speedily  brightened  by  the  vivid  sunshine  of  hope 
and  confidence.  They  then  gradually  yielded  to  the  in- 
fluence of  that  divine  principle  which  sJiall  finally  wipe 
the  tear  from  every  eye,  and  banish  all  sorrow  and  sighing 
for  evermore. 

On  the  fourth  day  from  thence,  Jane  was  buried.  I  had 
never  before  committed  a  parishioner  to  the  ground  with 
similar  aftections.  The  attendants  were  not  many,  but  I 
was  glad  to  perceive  among  them  some  of  the  children 
who  had  been  accustomed  to  receive  my  weekly  private 
instruction  along  with  her. 

I  wished  that  the  scene  might  usefully  impress  their 
young  hearts,  and  that  God  would  bless  it  to  their  edifi- 
cation. 

As  I  stood  at  the  head  of  the  grave,  during  the  service, 
I  connected  past  events,  which  had  occurred  in  the  church- 


THE   YOUNG   COTTAGER.  2'^ 

yard,  with  the  present.  In  this  spot  Jane  first  learned  the 
value  of  that  Gospel  which  saved  her  soul.  Not  many 
yards  from  her  own  burial-place,  was  the  epitaph  which 
has  already  been  described  as  the  first  means  of  affecting 
her  mind  with  serious  and  solemn  conviction.  It  seemed 
to  stand  at  this  moment  as  a  peculiar  witness  for  those 
truths  which  its  lines  proclaimed  to  every  passing  reader. 
Such  an  association  of  objects  produced  a  powerful  effect 
on  my  thoughts. 

The  evening  was  serene — nothing  occurred  to  interrupt 
the  quiet  solemnity  of  the  occasion. 

"  Peace"  was  the  last  word  little  Jane  uttered,  while 
living  ;  and  peace  seemed  to  be  inscribed  on  the  farewell 
scene  of  the  grave,  where  she  was  laid.  A  grateful  re- 
membrance of  that  peace  revives  in  my  own  mind,  as  I 
write  these  memorials  of  it ;  and  O  !  may  that  peace 
which  passeth  all  understanding,  be  in  its  most  perfect 
exercise,  when  I  shall  meet  her  again  at  the  last  day. 

Attachment  to  the  spot  where  this  young  Christian  lay, 
induced  me  to  plant  a  yew-tree,  close  by  the  head  of  her 
grave,  adjoining  the  eastern  wall  of  the  church.  I  de- 
signed it  as  an  evergreen  monument  of  one  who  was  dear 
to  memory.  The  young  plant  appeared  healthy  for  a 
while,  and  promised  by  its  outward  vigor  long  to  retain  its 
station.  But  it  withered  soon  afterward,  and  like  the 
child  whose  grave  it  pointed  out  to  notice,  early  faded 
away  and  died. 

The  yew-tree  proved  a  frail  and  short-lived  monument. 
But  a  more  lasting  one  dwells  in  my  own  heart.  And 
perhaps  this  narrative  may  be  permitted  to  transmit  her 
memory  to  other  generations,  when  the  hand  and  heart  of 
the  writer  shall  be  cold  in  the  dust. 


294 


THE    YOUNG    COTTAGER. 


Perchance  some,  into  whose  hands  these  pages  may  fall, 
will  he  led  to  cultivate  their  spiritual  young  plants  with 
increased  hope  of  success,  in  so  arduous  an  endeavor. 
May  the  tender  blossoms  reward  their  care,  and  bring  forth 
early  and  acceptable  fruit ! 

Some,  who  have  perhaps  been  accustomed  to  undervalue 
the  character  of  very  youthful  religion,  may  hereby  see 
that  the  Lord  of  grace  and  glory  is  not  limited  in  the  ex- 
ercise of  his  power  by  age  or  circumstance.  It  sometimes 
appears  in  the  displays  of  God's  love  to  sinners,  as  it  does 
in  the  manifestations  of  his  works  in  the  heavens,  that  the 
least  of  the  planets  moves  in  the  nearest  course  to  the 
sun  ;  and  there  enjoys  the  most  powerful  influence  of  his 
light,  heat,  and  attraction. 

The  story  of  this  Young  Cottager  involves  a  clear  evi- 
dence of  the  freeness  of  the  operations  of  divine  grace  on 
the  heart  of  man  ;  of  the  inseparable  connection  between 
true  faith  and  holiness  of  disposition  ;  and  of  the  simpli- 
city of  character  which  a  real  love  of  Christ  transfuses 
into  the  soul. 

How  many  of  the  household  of  faith,  in  every  age, 

"  Alike  unknown  to  fortune  and  to  fame," 

have  journeyed  and  are  now  travelling  to  their  "  city  of 
habitation,"  through  the  paths  of  modest  obscurity  and  al- 
most unheeded  piety  !  It  is  one  of  the  most  interesting 
employments  of  the  Christian  minister  to  search  out  these 
spiritual  lilies  of  the  valley,  whose  beauty  and  fragrance 
are  nearly  concealed  in  their  shady  retreats.  To  rear  the 
flower,  to  assist  in  unfolding  its  excellences,  and  bring 
forth  its  fruit  in  due  season,  is  a  work  that  delightfully 
recompenses  the  toil  of  the  cultivator. 


THE   YOUNG    COTTAGER.  225 

While  he  is  occupied  in  this  grateful  task  of  laboring 
in  his  heavenly  Master's  garden,  some  blight,  some  tem- 
pest may  chance  to  take  away  a  favorite  young  blossom, 
in  a  premature  stage  of  its  growth. 

H  such  a  case  should  befall  him,  he  will  then,  perhaps, 
as  I  have  often  done,  when  standing  in  pensive  recollec- 
tion at  little  Jane's  grave,  make  an  application  of  these 
lines,  which  are  inscribed  on  a  grave-stone  erected  in  the 
same  churchyard,  and  say, 

"  This  lovely  bod,  so  young  and  fair, 
Call'd  hence  by  early  doom, 
Just  came  to  show  how  sweet  a  flower 
In  Paradise  would  bloom." 


THB  feND  OF  THE  TOXmO    COTTAOXS. 


THE 


COTTAGE   CONVERSATION 


As  I  journeyed  late  on  a  summer  evening,  meditating 
on  the  beauties  of  the  prospect  around  me,  while  they 
gradually  faded  from  my  sight,  through  the  approach  of 
darkness,  it  grew  suddenly  quite  gloomy,  and  a  black 
cloud  hanging  over  my  head  threatened  a  heavy  shower 
of  rain.  The  big  drops  began  to  fall,  and  an  open  shed, 
adjoining  to  a  laborer's  cottage,  ojffering  me  a  seasonable 
shelter,  I  dismounted  from  my  horse,  and  found  it  large 
enough  to  protect  him  as  well  as  myself. 

The  circumstance  remmded  me  or  me  nappy  privilege 
of  the  believing  smner,  who  finds  a  •*  refuge  from  the 
storm,  and  the  blast  of  the  terrible  ones,  m  the  love  of  his 
Redeemer,"  which  prepares  him  "a  covert  from  storm  and 
from  rain."  I  went  in  unperceived  ;  the  door  of  the  cot- 
tage was  half  open,  and  I  heard  the  voices  of  a  poor  man. 
his  wife,  and  some  children  within. 

I  was  hesitating  whether  to  go  into  the  house  and  make 
myself  known,  or  to  enjoy  in  solitude  a  meditation  on  the 
foregoing  comparison,  which  my  situation  had  brought  to 
my  mind,  when  these  words,  spoken  in  a  calm  and  affec- 


228  THE  COTTAGE  CONVERSATION. 

tionate  tone,  struck  me  with  mingled  pleasure  and  sur- 
prise, and  determined  me  not  to  interrupt  the  conversa- 
tion : 

"  Indeed,  wife,  you  are  m  the  wrong.  Riches  would 
never  make  us  happier,  so  long  as  the  Lord  sees  it  good 
that  we  should  be  poor." 

"  Well,"  replied  the  wife,  "  I  can  see  no  harm  in 
wishing  for  more  money  and  better  living,  than  we 
have  at  present.  Other  people  have  risen  in  the  world  ; 
and  why  should  not  we  ]  There's  neighbor  Sharp  has 
done  well  for  nis  lamuy,  and,  lor  any  tning  I  can  see, 
will  be  one  of  the  richest  farmers  in  the  parish,  if  he 
lives  :  and  everybody  knows,  he  was  once  as  poor  as 
we  are  :  while  you  and  I  are  laboring  and  toihng  from 
morning  to  night,  and  can  but  just  get  enough  to  fill  our 
children's  mouths,  and  keep  ourselves  coarsely  clothed, 
and  hardly  that." 

"  Wife,"  answered  the  man,  "  having  food  and  raiment, 
let  us  therewith  be  content.  And,  if  it  please  God  that 
even  these  things  should  fall  short,  let  us  submit  ourselves 
to  God  in  patience  and  well-doing,  for  he  gives  us  more 
than  we  deserve." 

"  There,  now  you  are  got  to  preaching  again,"  said  the 
woman ;  "  you  never-  give  me  an  answer,  but  you  must 
always  go  to  your  Bible  to  help  you  out." 

"And  where  can  I  go  so  welH"  replied  the  husband: 
"is  it  not  God's  own  word  for  our  instruction  1" 

"  Well,  that  may  be,  but  I  don't  like  so  much  of  it,"  an- 
swered she. 

"  And  I  do  not  like  so  little  of  it,  as  I  see  and  hear  from 
you,"  returned  the  man. 

"  Why  that  book  has  taught  me,  that  it  is  an  honor  and 


THE  COTTAGE  CONVERSATION.         229 

comfort  to  be  a  poor  man ;  and  by  the  blessing  of  the 
Spirit  of  God,  I  believe  and  feel  it  to  be  true.  I  have, 
through  mercy,  always  been  enabled  to  get  the  bread  of 
honest  industry,  and  so  have  you ;  and  though  our  chil- 
dren feed  upon  brown  bread,  and  we  cannot  afford  to 
buy  them  fine  clothes,  like  some  of  our  vain  neighbors, 
to  pamper  their  pride  with;  yet,  bless  the  Lord,  they 
are  as  healthy  and  clean  as  any  in  the  parish.  Why  then 
should  you  complain  1  Godliness  with  contentment  is 
great  gain." 

"  An  honor  and  a  comfort  to  be  a  poor  man,  indeed  ! 
What  nonsense  you  talk  !  What  sort  of  honor  and  com- 
fort can  that  be  1  I  am  out  of  patience  with  you,  man," 
the  wife  sharply  cried  out. 

"  I  can  prove  it,"  replied  he. 

"  How  f  returned  his  partner,  in  no  very  pleasant  tone 
of  voice. 

"  My  dear,"  said  the  good  man,  "  hear  me  quietly,  and 
I  will  tell  you. 

"  I  think  it  an  honor,  and  I  feel  it  a  comfort,  to  be  in  that 
very  station  of  life  which  my  Saviour  Jesus  Christ  was  in 
before  me.  He  did  not  come  into  the  world  as  one  that 
was  rich  and  great,  but  as  a  poor  man,  who  had  not  where 
to  lay  his  head.  I  feel  a  blessing  in  my  poverty,  because 
Jesus,  like  me,  was  poor.  Had  I  been  a  rich  man,  per- 
haps I  should  never  have  known  nor  loved  him.  '  For  not 
many  mighty,  nor  many  noble  are  called.'  God's  people 
are  chiefly  found  amongst  the  base  things  of  the  world, 
and  things  which  are  despised.  This  makes  my  poverty 
to  be  my  comfort. 

"Besides,  hath  not  God  chosen  the  poor  of  this  world, 
rich  in  faith,  and  heirs  of  the  kingdom  which  he  hath 
•  20 


230  THE    COTTAGE    CONVERSATION. 

promiped  to  mem  that  love  him  1     This  thought  makes 
my  poverty  also  to  be  my  honor. 

"  Moreover,  to  the  poor  the  gospel  was  and  is  preached, 
and  to  my  heart's  delight  I  find  it  to  be  true,  every  Sun- 
day of  my  life.  And  is  it  not  plain,  all  the  neighborhood 
through,  that  while  so  many  of  our  rich  farmers,  and 
tradesmen,  and  squires,  are  quite  careless  or  set  their 
faces  against  the  ways  of  God,  and  are  dead  to  every  thing 
that  is  gracious  and  holy ;  a  great  number  of  the  poorest 
people  are  converted  and  live?  I  honor  the  rich  for 
their  station,  but  I  do  not  envy  them  for  their  posses- 
sions. I  cannot  forget  what  Christ  once  said,  'How  hard- 
ly shall  they  that  have  riches,  enter  into  the  kingdom  of 
God.' 

"  Oh !  my  dear  wife,  if  you  did  but  know  how  to  set  a 
right  value  upon  the  precious  promises  which  God  has 
made  to  the  poor,  how  thankful  should  I  be  ! 

"  The  expectation  of  the  poor  shall  not  perish.  He  de- 
livereth  the  poor  and  needy  from  him  that  spoileth  him. 
He  has  prepared  of  his  goodness  for  the  poor.  The  poor 
among  men  shall  rejoice  in  the  Holy  One.  For  he  became 
poor,  that  we,  through  his  poverty,  might  be  rich ;  not  in 
gold,  but  in  grace. 

"  These  promises  cofnfort  my  soul,  and  would  make  me 
happy,  even  if  I  were  deprived  of  that  which  I  now  enjoy. 
I  can  trust  my  Saviour  for  this  world,  as  well  as  for  the 
next.  He  that  spared  not  his  own  Son,  but  delivered  him 
up  for  us  all,  how  shall  he  not  with  him  also  freely  give  us 
all  things  1 

"  The  Lord  of  his  mercy  bless  you,  my  dear  Sarah,  W'«-h 
the  grace  of  a  contented  mind  !" 

Here  the  gracious  man  stopped :  and  whether  affected 


THE  COTTAGE  CONVERSATION.  231 

by  her  husband's  discourse,  or  by  any  other  cause,  I  know- 
not,  but  she  made  no  reply.  He  then  said,  "  Come,  chil- 
dren, it  is  our  time  for  rest ;  shut  the  door,  and  let  us  go 
to  prayer." 

"  Forgive  me,"  said  I,  laying  hold  of  the  door,  as  the 
child  was  obeying  her  father's  orders,  "  if  I  ask  leave  to 
make  one  in  your  family  devotions,  before  I  travel  home- 
ward. I  have  heard  you,  my  friend,  when  you  knew  it 
not,  and  bless  God  for  the  sermon  which  you  have  this 
night  preached  to  my  heart." 

The  honest  laborer  blushed  for  a  moment  at  this  unex- 
pected intrusion  and  declaration,  but  immediately  said, 
"  Sir,  you  are  welcome  to  a  poor  man's  dwelling,  if  you 
come  in  the  name  of  the  Lord." 

I  just  looked  around  at  the  wife,  who  seemed  to  be 
startled  at  my  sudden  appearance,  and  the  six  fine  chil- 
dren who  sat  near  her,  and  then  said,  "  You  were  going  to 
pray ;  I  must  beg  of  you,  without  regarding  me,  to  go  on, 
as  if  I  were  not  here." 

The  man,  whom  I  could  not  but  love  and  reverence, 
with  a  simple,  unaffected,  modest,  and  devout  demeanor, 
did  as  I  requested  him.  His  prayer  was  full  of  tender  af- 
fection and  sincerity,  expressed  with  great  scriptural 
propriety,  and  was  in  all  respects  such  as  became  the 
preacher  of  those  sentiments  which  I  had  overheard  him 
deliver  to  his  wife  just  before. 

When  he  had  finished,  each  of  his  children,  accord- 
ing to  the  good  old  patriarchal  custom  of  better  days, 
kneeled  down  before  him  in  turn  to  receive  a  father's 
blessing. 

It  was  now  late,  and  the  rain  was  over  :  I  gave  the  poor 
.nan  my  blessing,  and  received  his  in  return.     I  wished 


•232  THE    COTTAGE    CONVERSATION. 

them  good  night,  and  went  onward  to  my  own  home, 
reflecting  with  much  self-abasement  of  heart,  what  an 
honor  and  comfort  it  is,  to  be  a  poor  man,  rich  in  the 
faith. 


END  OF  THE  COTTAGE  CONVERSATION. 


VISIT  TO  THE  INFIRMARY 


I  WENT  a  few  months  since  to  visit  a  parishioner,  then 
in  the  County  Infirmary,  within  some  miles  of  which  I 
reside,  and  was  informed  that  in  an  adjoining  ward  there 
lay  a  very  good  old  man,  confined  by  a  mortification  in  his 
foot,  who  would  take  particular  satisfaction  in  any  Chris- 
tian conversation  which  my  time  would  allow  me  to  afford 
him. 

The  nurse  conducted  me  into  a  room,  where  I  found 
him  alone  on  a  bed.  The  character  of  his  countenance 
was  venerable,  cheerful,  contented,  and  pious.  His  hoary 
hairs  proclaimed  him  to  be  aged,  although  the  liveliness 
in  his  eye  was  equal  to  that  of  the  most  vigorous  youth. 

"  How  are  you,  my  friend?"  I  said. 

"  Very  well,  sir,  very  well.  Never  better  in  all  my 
life.  Thank  God  for  all  his  mercies  :"  replied  the  man, 
with  so  cheerful  a  tone  of  voice,  as  at  once  surprised  and 
delighted  me. 

" Very  well ]    How  sol    I  thought,  from  what  I  heard, 
you  were  in  much  pain  and  weakness]"  said  I. 
20* 


234  VISIT  TO  THE  INFIRMAET. 

"  Yes,  sir,  that  is  true  ;  but  I  am  very  well  for  all  that 
For  God  is  so  good  to  my  soul ;  and  he  provides  every 
thing  needful  for  my  body.  The  people  in  the  house  are 
very  kind  ;  and  friends  come  to  see  me,  and  talk  and  pray 
with  me.  Sir,  I  want  nothing,  but  more  grace,  to  praise 
the  Lord  for  all  his  goodness." 

"  Why,  my  friend,  you  are  an  old  pilgrim,  and  I  am  glad 
to  see  that  you  have  learned  thankfulness,  as  you  travel 
through  the  wilderness." 

"Thankfulness!"  quickly  returned  he;  "No,  sir;  I 
never  did  thank  the  Lord,  I  never  could  thank  him ;  no, 
nor  I  never  shall  thank  him,  as  I  ought,  till  I  get  to  glory. 
And  then — O  !  then — how  I  will  thank  him  for  what  he 
has  done  for  me  !"  Tears  of  affection  filled  his  eyes,  as  he 
spoke. 

"What  a  good  Master  you  serve  !"  I  added. 

"  Ay,  sir,  if  the  servant  was  but  as  good  as  the  Master. 
But  here  I  am,  a  poor  old  sinner,  deserving  nothing,  and 
receiving  every  thing  which  I  need.  Sir,  I  want  nothing, 
but  more  grace  to  serve  him  better.  I  lie  here  on  this 
bed,  and  pray  and  sing  by  night  and  day.  Sir,  you  must 
let  me  sing  you  my  hymn :  I  always  begin  it  about  four 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  it  keeps  my  spirits  alive  all 
the  day  through." 

Without  waiting  for  my  reply,  he  raised  himself  up,  and 
in  an  aged  and  broken,  but  very  affecting  tone  of  voice,  he 
sang  two  or  three  verses,  expressive  of  God's  goodness  to 
him,  and  his  own  desire  to  live  to  God's  glory.  The  sim- 
plicity, serenity,  and  heartfelt  consolation,  with  which  this 
venerable  disciple  went  through  it,  gave  a  coloring  to  the 
whole,  and  left  an  impression  on  my  mind,  which  it  would 
be  impossible  to  convey  to  the  reader. 


VISIT  TO  THE  INFIRMARY.  235 

As  soon  as  he  had  finished  his  hymn,  he  said,  "  Do  not 
be  offended,  sir,  at  ray  boldness  :  you  love  the  Lord,  too, 
I  hope ;  and  then  I  am  sure  you  won't  be  angry  to  hear 
me  praise  him. — But  now,  sir,  talk  to  me  about  Jesus 
Christ.  You  are  his  minister,  and  he  has  sent  you  here 
to-day  to  see  a  poor  unworthy  soul,  that  does  not  deserve 
the  least  of  his  mercies.  "  Talk  to  me,  sir,  if  you  please, 
about  Jesus  Christ." 

"  Neither  you  nor  I  are  able  to  talk  of  him  as  we  ought," 
I  answered  :  "  and  yet,  if  we  were  to  hold  our  peace,  the 
very  stones  would  cry  out." 

"  Ay,  and  well  they  might,  sir,  cry  shame,  shame  upon 
us,  if  we  refused  to  speak  of  his  goodness,"  said  the  old 
man. 

"  Jesus  Christ,"  I  continued,  "  is  a  sure  refuge,  and  a 
present  help  in  time  of  trouble." 

"  That's  right,  sir  ;  so  he  is." 

"Jesus  Christ  has  taken  care  of  you,  and  watched  over 
you  all  the  days  of  your  life ;  and  he  will  be  your  guide 
and  portion  in  death." 

"  That's  right  again,  sir ;  so  he  will." 

"  You  have  committed  your  soul  into  his  keeping  long 
since,  have  you  noti" 

"  Above  forty  years  ago,  sir ;  above  forty  years  ago, 
(when  I  first  used  to  hear  good  Mr.  Venn  and  Mr.  Ber- 
ridge,)  he  came  to  seek  and  to  save  me,  a  vile  sinner,  who 
deserved  nothing  but  his  wrath.  I  can  never  praise  him 
enough." 

"  Well,  my  friend,  and  this  very  Saviour  Jesus  Christ, 
whom  you  love,  and  in  whom  you  trust,  lived  for  you,  and 
died  for  you  ;  he  rose  again  for  you,  and  has  sanctified  you 
by  his  Holy  Spirit,  and  now  lives  to  make  daily  intercee- 


a36  VISIT  TO  THE  INFIRMARY. 

sion  for  you ;  and  having  done  all  this,  do  you  think  he 
will  leave  you  to  perish  at  last  1" 

"  No,  sir,"  said  the  old  man  :  "  faithful  is  he  that  hath 
promised,  and  will  do  it.  Mine,  alack,  is  a  changing 
heart ;  but  he  changeth  not.  I  believe  that  he  hath  laid 
up  a  crown  of  glory  for  me  ;  and  though  the  old  enemy  of 
souls  sometimes  tells  me  I  shan't  have  it,  I  believe  in 
Christ  sooner  than  in  him,  and  I  trust  I  shall  have  it 
at  last." 

"  And  do  you  not  find  by  experience,"  I  added,  "that  his 
yoke  is  easy,  and  his  burden  light  1  His  commandments 
are  not  grievous,  are  they?" 

"  No,  sir,  no :  it  is  a  man's  meat  and  drink,  if  he  loves 
the  Lord,  to  do  what  he  bids  him." 

"  Where  were  you,  before  you  came  into  this  infirmary  3" 

"  In  the  parish  workhouse  of  S ." 

"  Have  you  a  wife  ?" 

"  She  died  some  years  since,  and  got  to  her  heavenly 
home  before  me." 

"  Have  you  any  children  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  have  two  sons  married,  and  settled  in  the 
world  with  families.  One  of  them  has  been  here  to  see 
me  lately,  and  I  hope  he  is  in  a  good  way  for  his  own  soul, 
and  brings  up  his  children  in  the  fear  of  God." 

"Have  you  any  worldly  cares  upon  your  mind  ?" 

"  Not  one,  sir.  I  am  come  to  this  house,  I  plainly  see, 
to  end  my  days  ;  for  this  mortification  in  my  leg  must,  be- 
fore it  be  very  long,  bring  me  to  the  grave.  And  I  am 
quite  willing,  sir,  to  go  or  to  wait  the  Lord's  own  time. 
I  want  nothing,  sir,  but  more  grace  to  praise  him."  Which 
last  words  he  often  repeated  in  the  course  of  the  conver- 
BatioD 


VISIT  TO  THE  INFIRMARY.  ^7 

"  You  have  reason,"  I  said,  "to  feel  thankful  that  there 
is  such  a  house  as  this,  for  poor  and  sick  people  to  be 
brought  to,  for  both  food,  lodging,  and  medicine." 

"  That  I  have,  indeed,  sir ;  it  is  a  house  of  mercies  to 
me,  and  I  am  ashamed  to  hear  how  unthankful  many  of  the 
patients  seem  to  be  for  the  benefits  which  the  Lord  pro- 
vides for  them  here.  But,  poor  creatures,  they  neither 
know  nor  love  him.  The  Lord  have  mercy  upon  them ; 
and  show  them  the  right  way.  I  should  never  have  known 
that  good  way,  sir,  if  he  had  not  taken  compassion  upon 
me,  when  I  had  none  upon  myself." 

Tears  ran  down  his  aged  cheeks  as  he  spoke  these  last 
words. — "  Here,"  thought  I,  "  is  a  poor  man  that  is  very 
rich,  and  a  weak  man  that  is  very  strong." 

At  this  moment  the  nurse  brought  in  his  dinner. 

"  There,  sir,  you  see,  more  and  more  mercies  !  The 
Lord  takes  care  of  me,  and  sends  me  plenty  of  food  for  this 
poor  old  worn-out  body." 

"And  yet,"  said  I,  "that  poor  old  worn-out  body  will 
one  day  be  renewed  and  become  a  glorified  body,  and 
live  along  with  your  soul  in  the  presence  of  God  for 
ever." 

"  That's  right,  sir,"  said  the  good  old  man,  "  so  it  will : 
'though  after  my  skin  worms  destroy  this  body,  yet  in  my 
flesh  shall  I  see  God.'  But  come,  sir,"  seeing  me  look  at 
my  watch,  "  you  must  epeak  a  word  to  your  Master,  if  you 
please,  as  well  as  for  him.  I  will  put  down  my  dinner, 
while  you  pray  with  me." 

I  did  so,  the  man  often  adding  his  confirmation  of  what 
I  offered  up,  by  voice,  gesture,  and  countenance,  in  a  man- 
ner highly  expressive  of  the  agreement  of  his  heart  with 
the  language  of  the  prayer. 


238  VISIT  TO  THE  ISTTRMARY. 

Having  ended,  he  said,  "  God  be  with  you,  sir,  and  blesb 
your  labors  to  many  poor  souls  :  I  hope  you  will  come  to 
see  me  again,  if  my  life  be  spared.  I  am  so  glad  to  see 
those  who  will  talk  to  me  about  Jesus  Christ,  and  his 
precious  salvation." 

I  replied,  "  May  the  God  of  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob, 
who  carried  them  through  the  days  of  their  pilgrimage, 
and  brought  them  safe  to  a  city,  which  hath  foundations, 
brmg  you  there  too,  and  bless  you  all  the  remaining  days 
of  your  journey  till  you  get  home.  I  am  going  to  see 
several  serious  friends  this  evening,  who  would  be  glad,  I 
know,  to  receive  a  message  from  one  who  has  had  so  muri* 
experience  of  a  Saviour's  mercies.  What  shall  I  say  tc 
lAem  V 

"  Tell  them,  sir,  with  my  Christian  love  and  respects, 
that  you  have  been  to  see  a  poor  dying  old  man,  who  wants 
nothing  at  all,  in  this  world,  but  more  grace  to  praise  thj 
Lord  with." 

So  ended  our  fir«t  interview.  I  could  not  help  reflect- 
ing, as  I  returned  homeward,  that  as  the  object  of  my 
journey  to  the  infirmary  had  been  to  carry  instruction  and 
consolation  myself  to  the  poor  and  the  sick ;  so  the  poor 
and  the  sick  were  made  instrumental  to  the  conveying  of 
both  instruction  and  consolation  to  my  own  heart  in  a  very 
superior  degree. 

I  saw  him  four  or  five  times  afterward,  and  always  found 
him  in  the  same  happy,  patient,  thankful,  and  edifying 
state  of  mind  and  conversation.  The  last  time  I  was  with 
hina,  be  said :  "  Sir,  I  long  to  be  at  my  heavenly  home, 
bisf  1  am  willing  to  remain  a  traveller,  as  long  as  my  Lord 
&9%  Haster  sees  good." 


VISIT   TO   THE   INFIRMARY.  239 

He  died*  not  long  after  my  last  sight  of  him,  in  the 
steadfast  assurance  of  faith,  and  with  a  full  hope  of  im 
mortality." 

*  The  foregoing  conversation  took  place  on  September  22, 1808,  and  is  Mtk 
fully  related. 
J.  S.,  rlie  good  old  man  who  died  in  the  infirmary,  in  December,  1806. 


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CARTERS      P  U  B  L.    C  A  T  I  0  N  S.  7 

Howe's  Redeemer's  Tears  and  other  Essays.     18mo.  50 

Huss  (Jno.)  Life.     Translated  from  the  German  25 

Jacobus  ou  Matthew.     With  a  Harmony.     Illustrated.        75 

Questions  on  do.     18mo.  15 

On  Mark,  Luke,  and  John  (preparing.) 

James' Anxious  Inquirer.      18mo.  30 

True  Christian,                 "  30 

Widow  Directed.     18mo.  30 

Janeway's  Heaven  upon  Earth.     12mo.  60 

Token  for  Children.     ISmo.  30 

Jay's  Morning  Exercises.     12mo.  75 

Evening         "                   "  75 

Christian  Contemplated.     ISmo.  40 

Jubilee  Memorial.                     "  30 

Jerram's  Tribute  to  a  beloved  and  only  Daughter.  30 

Key  to  the  Shorter  Catechism.     18mo.  20 
Kennedy's  (Grace)  Profession  is  not  Principle.     18mo.          30 

Jessy  Allan,  tlie  Lame  Girl.     18mo.  25 

Krummacher's  Martyr  Lamb.     18mo.  40 

Elijah  the  Tishbite,            "  40 

Last  Days  of  Elisha.     12mo.  75 

Life  in  New  York.     18mo.  40 

Lowrie's  Letters  to  Sabbath  School  Children.     ISmo.  25 

Lockwood's  Memoir.     By  his  Father.     18mo.  40 

Luther's  Commentary  on  Galatians.     8vo.  1  50 

Mackay — The  WycklifEtes;  or,  England  in   the  15th 

Century.  75 

Martin's  (Sarah)  Life.     18mo.  90 

Martyn's  (Henry)  Life.     12mo.  60 

Mason's  Essays  on  the  Church.     12mo.  60 

"       on  Episcopacy.       "  60 

Martyrs  and  Covenanters  of  Scotland.     18mo.  40 

Malcom  on  the  Atonement.     18mo.  30 


8  CARTERS      i>  U  B  L  I  C  A  T  ION  8. 

McCrindell — The  Convent,  a  Narrative.     18mo.  50 

McGilvray's  Peace  in  Believing.     18mo.  25 

McLeod's  Life  and  Power  of  True  Godliness.     12mo.  60 

jMcCheyne's  (Rev.  Robert  Murray)  Works.  2  vols.  8vo.  3  00 

Life,  Lectures,  and  Letters.     Separate.  1  50 

Sermons.     Separate.  2  00 

Familiar  Letters  from  the  Holy  Land.     ISmo.  50 

•McFarlane — The  Mountains  of  the  Bible,  their  Scenes 

and  their  Lessons,  with  four  illustrations  on  steel.  12mo  75 

Do.                    Do.                    extra  gilt  1  25 

Meikle's  Solitude  Sweetened.     ]2mo.  60 

Miller's  (Rev.  Dr.  Samuel)  Memoir  of  Rev.  Dr.  Nisbet.  75 

(Rev.  John)  Design  of  the  Church.     12mo.  60 

Michael  Kemp,  the  Farmer's  Lad.     ISmo,  40 

Moifat's  Southern  Africa.    12 mo.  75 

Monod's  Lucilla;  or,  the  Reading  of  the  Bible.     18mo.  40 
*More    (Hannah)— The    Book    of  Private    Devotion. 

Large  type,  elegant  edition,  l8mo.  50 

Do.                      do                     do                 extra  gilt  75 

Do.                      do.                     small  edition,  32mo.  20 

Do.                      do.                                   •*            gilt  30 

Missions,  the  Origin  and  History  of.     By  Choules  and 

Smith.     With  25  steel  plates.     4to.  3  50 
Morell's  Historical   and  Critical  View  of  the  Specula- 
tive Philosophy  of  Europe  in  the  19th  Century  3  00 
My  School  Boy  Days.     18mo.  30 
My  Youthful  Companions.     ISmo.  30 
The  above  two  bound  in  1  vol.  SO 

Newton's  (Rev.  John)  Works.    2  voli.  8vo.  3  00 

Life.     Separate.     18mo.  30 

Noel's  Infant  Piety.     18mo.  25 

North  American  Indians.     Illustrated.     18mo.  50 


Olmsted's  Thoughts  and  Counsels  for  the  Impenitent  50 

Old  White  Meeting-House.     18mo.  40 

•Opie  On  Lying.     New  edition,  18mo. 


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